


The Horned One

by BloodunderMoonlight



Category: A Study in Emerald - Neil Gaiman, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Cthulhu Mythos Fusion, Alternate Universe - Lovecraft Fusion, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Will Graham, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Gore, M/M, Monster sex, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Sex, Season/Series 01, Slow Burn, Tentacles, bloodborne reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodunderMoonlight/pseuds/BloodunderMoonlight
Summary: The stranger stood to greet him. It was a man dressed in fine clothes and wearing a polite smile, striking with the high cheekbones and thin lips. Will could not deny his attractiveness, but it was exactly because he looked nothing out of place and attractive even, that Will shivered involuntarily.“You are not a human,” he blurted out. “Why do you look like one of us?”A glint sparkled in those dark eyes. A scream stuck in Will’s throat like a large fish bone.-----Season 1 AU, loosely based on Cthulhu mythos/A study in Emerald (no need to know anything about them)Will is a human and Hannibal is an alien god
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 125
Kudos: 922





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @indy79345870 and @DreamieNebula (twitter) for being my betas!

#  
  
  
A deep, unnerving vibration resonated in the lecture hall once the uninvited man stepped across the threshold. Will gulped. He instinctively grasped for his glasses from his chest pocket, sparingly observing his intruder behind the lens.

It was a sturdy, stern-looking, but _normal_ man. A normal man with no insect eyes or tapeworm mouths or tentacles or any horrifying limbs like more than half of his trainees had and was proud of;nothing disturbing that resembled the ones above them. Not a half-blood, nor a kin—a pure human, something comparatively safe and harmless.

Seeing his own kind in a hall nearly full of godkins was supposed to be relieving, however, this man’s arrival stung Will’s skin ominously like an abrupt dissonance. The sensitive hair on his scruff and arms stood in the muddy air all at once. 

Not good. Not good. Definitely not good at all.

Will quickly turned off the projector and gathered his belongings, harbouring the naive hope that he could join the exiting crowd and scooted off if he was fast enough. 

The man had stridden across the room and reached his desk before he could lift his messenger bag.

“Mr. Graham,” the man greeted him politely, not offering a handshake however. Though Will would still ignore him even if he had offered.

Will clung to his bag as he turned his face away to pretend his name belonged to someone else. 

The man continued his speech nonetheless. “I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford. I lead the BAU.”

Will nodded with no much enthusiasm, shifting his weight from one foot to the other which were pointing at the exit in desperation. Sweat covered his palms and soaked his woolen gloves. The sticky feeling distressed him further, but he refused to take his protection off.

The giant hall had only two of them left. Something sinister buzzed in the cold air, loud and overwhelming, like a concert performed by thousands of cicadas, whose origin Will tried but could not pinpoint.

He made an effort to focus on it. Any kind of noise was a blessing compared to a conversation.

“You’ve hitched your horse to a teaching post,” Jack said, clasping his hands on the desk. “I understand it’s not easy for you to be sociable.”

Will dragged down his gaze to the desk, studying the pattern of the wood. “I’m just talking to them. I’m not listening to them. It’s not social.”

“I see.” Jack responded with a noncommittal hum. “May I?”

Will blinked in confusion. A hand swooped down to his face. He flinched and nearly lost his balance.

Jack raised his hands to show no harm. “Your glasses are askew.”

“It’s fine,” Will said. 

Jack eyed him. “Where do you fall on the spectrum?” 

Will stared. “You have read my file.” He put down his bag. “Just skip the small talk. There’s a case and you want something from me. Asperger, haphephobia, and empathy—which one do you want?”

The last one. Always the last one. His gift. His affliction.

Jack shook his head to Will’s surprise. A more alarming smile spread on his face. 

“Can I borrow your psychic abilities?”

Will winced.

“No.” He flung the strap of the messenger bag onto his sore shoulder. “No.”

“Eight girls were abducted in the last eight months,” Jack said behind him. 

Will drew a heavy breath to continue his leaving.

“Eight human girls.”

Will stopped. He closed his eyes to shield his mind. Jack’s voice rattled in his skull like a grain of sand in his shoe. He looked back, and he knew he had lost. “I thought there were seven.”

Jack smiled. “There were.” 

Will ground his teeth. “When did you tag the eighth?”

“About three minutes before I walked into your lecture hall.”

Damn.

Will scrabbled in his bag for his bottle of aspirin. There were potions which had a stronger and long-lasting curing effect on headache, but who knew what would be the side effects. Even milk could be a mutagen nowadays. He would like to stay human for the rest of his miserable life, thank you very much.

“You’re calling them ‘abductions’ because you have no bodies?” He asked, adjusting the strap once he got the bottle.

“We have nothing.” Jack shook his head solemnly. “No bodies. No parts of bodies. Nothing that comes out of a body.”

Jack stepped forth and Will took a few steps back.

“You have Heimlich at Harvard and Bloom at Georgetown. They do the same thing I do,” he uttered the nonsense he himself did not even believe.

Jack looked at him with a silent sneer. “They don’t have the psychic power you have.”

Will looked down and fidgeted with the pill bottle. “Magic-free scientific formula”, the label said. He sighed. “You think it is related to the higher power.”

“I am not sure, so I want you to tell me if it is a human, a godkin, or even a Royal,” Jack said. “We can go home and rest if it is a Royal.”

  
The Royal could kill whatever, wherever, and whenever they wanted. They were gods and rulers of this insignificant planet;no laws were to bind them or able to bind them. Their hunting season was marked blood-red on every calendar, from the last week of October to the last of December. The climax of the festival was always in the Winter Solstice. 

People had built amphitheaters to please the gods. Criminals and those unfortunate children who were chosen as tributes would be sent in as well as the worshippers who were so eager to put themselves into the gods’ mouths that they would even kill each other to fight for the honour. The Royal liked watching it. They were like the audience of the game season rather than the players.

Will skimmed over the photos of the missing girls. He had no idea if they were lucky or not. Usually no one would bother to investigate the disappearance of one or two humans. They could have been killed, eaten, or just wandered off into another dimension. It was never a big deal.

“Sorry, but why does the FBI care about them?” He asked.

“We suspect it might be someone religious or even a cult abducting them,” Jack said. “Human sacrifice is forbidden, as you know.”

Will huffed. “Not when the tributes are in their childhoods or death penalties.”

Jack encouraged him to take off his gloves and touch the pictures.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Will murmured.

“How does it work then?”

Jack’s gaze burned the back of his head. Will chose not to mind it.

“I need something really tangible. You can’t smell the cake when you are looking at its picture.” Will leaned closer to the pictures of the girls as if studying the wings of a rare butterfly. “They all share similarities. Same hair and eye colour. Same age, same height, same weight.”

“Is it a ritual?”

“Gods want children, women, virgins… But they aren’t that picky. They might order some cheeseburgers with long pig meat, but they wouldn’t ask for burgers that had the same weight and the exact ratio of meat and oil and grain.” Will found his analogy amusing, though he could hear Jack clenching his jaw.

“What is it about all these girls then?”

“It’s not about all of these girls. It’s about one of them. His golden ticket. Not the first and not the last. He would hide how special she is.” Will stepped away. “It’s not a god. Gods have no reasons to hide.” 

“I need to be sure,” Jack said. 

Will flattened his lips.

“Perhaps I should take you to the girls’ houses,” Jack said. “There should be plenty of things for you to sense.”

“It’s been a long time. Everything would definitely be washed away like a footprint left in the garden on a rainy day.” Will shook his head and retreated slowly, but he knew what was coming next—

“How about the latest girl?”

  
It was a bad idea.

Will pulled his worn jacket closer to his body, but the bitter dread radiating from the girl’s parents penetrated all the physical layers. 

He walked around the living room, counting the steps he needed to take from one end to the other while keeping his hands deep in his pocket not to touch the photo frames on the shelf to align them properly.

“She looks like the other girls,” Mrs. Nichols said. The dark certainty lay in her voice. A mother’s instinct, perhaps.

“She fits the profile,” said Jack who sat opposite to the couple.

“Could Elise still be alive?” Asked Mr. Nichols. 

“We simply have no way of knowing.” Jack glanced at Will as if the answer was plastered on his face.

Will swayed on the spot. “How’s the cat?”

“What?” The mother looked up at him. The great cosmos—how would he care about a cat more than their daughter?

Will looked away to block her thought. 

“Elise was supposed to feed it,” he said. “Was the cat weird when you came home? It didn’t eat all weekend. Must have been hungry.” His dogs would be whining crazily if he did not feed them treats every fifteen minutes.

“I… I didn’t notice.”

She had fed it before he had taken her. 

Will bit his lips. “Where’s it now? It could have seen something.”

It sounded ridiculous, still they searched for the cat under Jack’s command. 

Will followed the father upstairs. Dimness draped over the staircase, nearly impenetrable to the faint light spilling out of the living room. The wooden steps shrieked beneath their feet. 

“You can...communicate with animals?” Mr. Nichols looked back at Will. Fear resided in his eyes. Not of Will, but of what Will might tell.

Will shook his head and watched his steps closely, not touching the walls or railings. 

“Strong emotions leave traces,” he said.

They reached the top. The cat was at the end of the corridor, scratching and mewling at the door. 

A cold wave washed over Will’s body.

“Pick up the cat. Go downstairs.” He instructed the father, then yelled, “Jack!” 

Without waiting he put on a pair of surgical gloves and opened the door. The freezing air of death hit him.

  
Will stood by the opened window, shuddering in the dead-cold air. Violence glowed red on the girl’s throat in the shape of a pair of human hands, half veiled by a comparable sorrow.

He had killed her here. 

He had watched her in her sleep. Just like what he had done when she had been a little girl.

His sweet little fawn. His lovely daughter. His girl who had grown up in the blink of an eye and was about to leave the nest, to leave him. He knew that day would come. It was unstoppable. 

There was only one way to keep her forever.

He watched her in tears. And he lunged.

The girl woke into terror. She tried to struggle and scream but couldn’t. 

Will looked into her eyes, watching the fire of life he had bestowed upon her be dim and doused. Death sung in his ears. Her chest cracked and dark branches pierced through him—

“You are Will Graham.”

Will startled back into reality. He was no longer alone with the corpse. A dark-haired woman flashed him a smile. 

He stared, disoriented. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity.” She offered a hand. “Beverly Katz. Just call me Bev.”

She radiated a sharp and bright aura, particularly welcoming in the cold room, but Will could not help but take a step backwards. 

“I, I don’t shake hands.”

“You are a psychic?” Beverly raised her brows with a curious smile. “The touch type?”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” Jack barreled in with two godkins just in time to save Will from the question.

Beverly shrugged and glanced at the corpse, holding up her tweezers to them. “Found antler velvet in two of the wounds. Like she was gored.”

“Deer and elk pin their prey, put all their weight on the antlers and try to suffocate them,” said the godkin standing next to Will. Unlike another godkin who appeared more human, every part of this man screamed that he was a half-blood, having the true eldritch blood coursing in his veins. If Will cut his skin with a blade, he would bleed green. 

Though the ichor in this man was thin like most of the half-blood today, diluted by generations and generations, serving merely a colonization tool. Still it was something fundamentally wicked, like a dormant virus waiting to be woken. 

Will rubbed his arm to placate his tingling skin. Half of what the godkin said slipped pass his mind. 

“Antler velvet has a healing power,” Will said. “He put it there on purpose.”

“He wanted to heal her despite she is dead?” Jack frowned at him. 

Will nodded. “He tried to undo as much as he could, he even put her back where he took her. I feel... his guilty.”

“Is it a godkin?”

Will took off the glove on his right hand to sense the wounds on the girl’s stomach, even though the answer had been already resting on his tongue. 

Godkins emitted a distinctive scent—musk, he called it for the lack of a better word. How strong the scent was depended on how thick the blood a godkin had. But even the faintest one could stay in the air for a long while. He had smelled nothing.

“A human being,” he said. “He has a daughter. She’s leaving home. He can’t bear with the thought of losing her. He doesn’t want to let her go. He’s taking these girls so he doesn’t have to take her.”

“If he is so possessive, why would he let this one go?”

Will inhaled. The sourness left by the killer strained his voice. “Whatever he did to the others, he couldn’t do it to her. This is an apology.”

  
Not troubling the flight attendants to get him a glass of water, Will shoved two pills of aspirin into his throat before realizing he should probably worry about the lethal dose of it. Yet, his headache deteriorated in the air rich in the scent of godkins.

He had picked a seat near the aisle, even though it was a place to endure people walking around. He seldom sat near the plane windows. 

Sky gave him irrational anxiety. It was the territory of the Formless Eagle, He Who Presides over the New World, who ruled them since nine hundred years ago, when he had woken from the long slumber with other gods like the Queen of Albion, when was the dawn of humanity.

It was said that Earth would still be a barren place and humans would still be a barbaric animal without the rule of the Great Old Ones. 

Will agreed. Only that nine hundred years were not enough to tame their animal instinct to fear, which would grab his heart hard every time he sensed the musk, despite that he knew there was no need to be afraid.

He leaned against the chair, trying to find a more comfortable posture to watch a film, even though his mind was not on it.

Occasionally, he would imagine the past when the ancestors of dogs still feared humans. It was a terrible time. 

  
The headlights lit a scurrying dog. 

Will’s spirit lifted at its sight. He slowed down his car and lowered the window instantly. 

The mutt ignored his whistle. It continued its trot, determined, perhaps finding its way home or finding a new home. A torn leash tailed behind it.

Will made a turn and stopped to block the way. The dog scuttle away into the dark. 

Sighing, Will rummaged in the glove compartment, but an empty bag of dog treat, a crumbled five-dollar bill and a few coins with the Eagle printed and crafted on them were what he could find. 

He drove back and returned with a bag of hot dogs. He ate one while luring the stray with a morsel on his bare palm. The dog stood a few feet away in mixed vigilance and curiosity. The aroma of the food eventually hooked its nose. The dog scampered to Will and swept the piece into its mouth.

“Where’s your home, little fellow?” Will touched the mutt’s fur freely. 

Animals were pure. They felt like winds, like currents. It was comfortable touching them.

He scratched the mutt’s chin, partly to gain more trust and partly to check its leash. The worn fabric stung his fingertips. It was something wet like alcohol. It hit him like a baseball bat. It was a pair of hands tying him to a pole and leaving him to starve and die. 

Will cursed. He found a knife and cut the leash. 

“You’re leaving with me, buddy.”

Will bathed and toweled the mutt once he arrived home. Without sand and mud the dog looked handsome with his brown fur. He licked Will’s face to show his gratitude. Will named him Winston.

Will arranged a room for Winston to rest. The other members of his pack were jealous. They followed Will closely while whining, and the smallest one hopped onto his laps when he settled in an armchair with a bottle of whiskey. He chuckled and petted them one by one. 

He watched an episode of a documentary on deep sea creatures before he dozed off. He dreamt of himself trapped in a forest of antlers.

  
Morgues had neither pain or suffering unlike hospitals where the madding chaos reposed. A pure cold inundated them, in which Will even found peace sometimes. 

The musk in this place was also more tolerable. All the bodies, no matter to whom they had belonged, a human or a godkin, they all smelled the same, of steel and disinfectants. Only death could bring equality to them.

Will breathed out an invisible mist. He straightened himself as Beverly, the only human teammate he had, stepped closer to him with a small plastic bottle.

“I’ve found a curl of metal on her clothes.” Beverly swung it before his nose. “Wanna give it a try?”

“We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool-workers.” Will took it and squinted his eyes. The metal piece slid at the bottom of the cylinder like a bug.

“You can take it out if you want,” Beverly said. “Go ahead, sniff it.”

“I’m not a beagle.” Will rolled his eyes at her smirk. He screwed open the cap nonetheless and poured the piece out onto his gloved palm. He lifted his left hand and let his sleeve fall down, revealing an inch of skin on his wrist. The team watched him as if fascinated. He hovered his bare wrist on the metal. Nothing, as expected. He would have felt something last night if there had been anything. 

He put the piece back. “I need strong emotions.”

“So you do retrocognition. And psychometry?”

“If you want to put it that way.”

“Are there, you know, ghosts?” The man who had introduced himself as Jimmy whispered behind a hand. Like many kins he retained most of the human parts. All the facial features were on where they were supposed to be, only with the addition of third eyelids and scales. His hands at least looked human under the gloves.

“There is no ghosts,” Will said, handing the bottle back to Beverly.

“You can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t standing right behind you,” said Brian the half-blood. One of his tentacles sneaked behind Jimmy to poke his back. Jimmy yelped but Brian pretended to be deaf. “So, except the damage on her throat and ribs, other injuries were probably postmortem. She wasn’t gored.”

“She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers,” Beverly argued.   
“I didn’t say the deer was responsible for putting them there.”

Will looked into the pupils in the girl’s eyes. Antlers ripped the darkness.

“She was mounted on them,” he said. “Like hooks. She may have been bled.”

Beverly and Jimmy raised their brows. Only Brian was still focused on the body—“Her liver was removed. He took it out and put it back in. See.”

Jimmy leaned closer to have a better look. “Why cut out her liver if he was just going to sew it back in again?”

Why would he want to take out her liver in the first place? To dispose of the body effectively? No, or he would have no reason to put her back. He could not even think of his daughter leaving him, how would he be willing to dump the bodies away to let them rot and decay and leave him forever? 

He would keep the bodies carefully. Specimens...no, no, he would still need to dispose of the meat or innards. He wanted to keep everything. There was only one way to achieve it. 

“He is eating them.”

Will’s legs trembled, unable to take one more step closer to the glass door of Jack’s office. His ears rang with the unpleasant note which he had heard in his lecture hall a few days ago. 

Jack and a human male he did not recognize were sitting in the room, so did a formidable thing, a thing mortal eyes were too blind to perceive.

Before he could control his legs to turn around, Jack called him. He had lingered by the door too long. There was no chance to run now.

Will tightened the grip on his mug. Warmth seeped through the woolen glove and served him a small comfort. He pushed open the door. A thunderous scent of eldritch magic crashed on him.

“Will, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

The stranger stood to greet him. It was a man dressed in fine clothes and wearing a polite smile, striking with the high cheekbones and thin lips. Will could not deny his attractiveness, but it was exactly because he looked nothing out of place and attractive even, that Will shivered involuntarily.

“You are not a human,” he blurted out. “Why do you look like one of us?”

A glint sparkled in those dark eyes. A scream stuck in Will’s throat like a large fish bone.

“What makes you deem that I am not a human being?” The man tilted his head in an unnatural way.

“I can smell it.” Will panted, dizzy, amazed that he could still stay sane at all. 

His weak voice deepened the smile on the man’s face. The man regarded him with a new, dangerous interest. “What do you smell?”

Will wanted to run away, but all his muscles froze except the ones of his jaw which moved without his consent, like they were controlled by a spell. “The musk, the eldritch power, whatever you call it, I can smell it on you.”

“How peculiar. It is a rare ability to detect eldritch magic, unusual even among psychics. You have impressed me within a minute,” Hannibal purred. His accented tone sounded alarmingly soothing, hypnotic. “I study cosmology in my free time. I examine artifacts, specimens, and even live samples. The experiments must have left a strong scent on me.” He curled his lips to mimic a smile. “I can assure you, Will, I am not the monster you should be afraid of.” 

With the musk soaking his skin, Will was too wary to believe it.

“The case doesn’t involve any eldritch being.” He turned his head at Jack’s direction. “We don’t need a doctor of cosmology.”

“Dr. Lecter is a psychiatrist.” _Fuck._ “I invited him to help us with the profile of our killer.”

“Where is Alana?”

“Dr. Bloom is occupied at the moment.” 

Bullshit.

“Why don’t you take a seat and discuss the case with us?” Jack demanded.

Will stood for a while before shuffling to sit next to Hannibal, watching for any sudden movement of the man, whose gaze was fixated on him rather than the pictures on the pin board.

Hannibal rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning towards Will slightly, not to spook him. “Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

Will tensed. 

“Eyes are distracting.” He retorted. “You see too much. You don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking at which pair of eyes you should stare or why would they have two pupils in each of their eyes or how does the world look like in those compound eyes? So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes with a muffled chuckle. “I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.”

“Whose profile are you working on?” Will jumped off his chair. “Whose profile is he working on?” 

“I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.” Hannibal lowered his head, but Will did not see any sincerity in it. 

“Please don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.” He grabbed up his mug, completely miffed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing.” He stormed out of the room without looking back. 

The musk clung on him for the rest of the day. 

  
They had another missing girl, who no one had realized was missing before they found the body. 

They dubbed him a bird’s name—the Minnesota Shrike. Except it was another killer.

Among the mumbles of the crowds and the bellows of winds, a soul-reaching sound hissed in the distance. Raven shrieked in response. The girl lay beneath their scaly craws, pierced by a bed of antlers and silhouetted in the rising sun, as sacred as a sacrifice to the ancient gods.

Will’s breath hitched. An urge to kneel and kiss the offering burnt every inch of his body. 

A magnificent stag rose from the darkness. The girl’s limbs dangled among the branches of its blood-stained crown. 

With a frosty mist, the god huffed to greet him. 


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
Vague knocks startled Will out of his deep slumber. He struggled blindly, panicking, only to realize the thing entangling him was merely a harmless blanket. He pushed it away quickly. His unsteady breath echoed in his ears.

His visitor knocked on the door again.

Will groaned and shambled across the motel room in his sweat-soaked clothes. It must be Jack. Who else would that be—

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal greeted Will with a charming smile. He dressed quite like the last time they had met, shirt and sweater and slacks, except this time the suit jacket had a reddish-brown colour. Yet, he appeared distinctively different. 

Where did all of his musk go?

The eldritch magic stuck to everything and refused to be washed off. Even a pure-blood human could smell of faint musk, but this man had nothing on him. Nothing.

In the Victorian era dairymen would add boracic acid into spoiled milk to cover the acidic taste, believing it could purify the liquid, though in fact turning the milk bottle into a great vessel for lethal bacteria, and this felt like adding too much boracic acid. Too clean. Having no alarming reek did not mean it was safe to trust.

Will glanced around. “Where’s Crawford?”

“Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today.” Hannibal smiled and seized Will up. His blatant gaze seemed to see through Will’s flimsy t-shirt and boxers.

Will blushed.

Before he ran to hide himself, Hannibal took a small step forth. “May I come in?”

It was rude to slam the door at the doctor’s nose.

Will stepped aside unwillingly, wondering if it was the man being too polite or he was a bloodsucker that really needed permission to enter a room. 

Hannibal returned a gracious smile and stepped inside, closing the door at his back, which cut off all the sun rays. Dimness wrapped around them.

Will stood in the same spot. He waited for himself to scream, but his instinct had nothing to say.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Hannibal placed down the thermos and food bag in his hands and spread open the curtains.

Will shook his head and hurried to the bathroom to put his pants on.

When he returned the aroma of egg and sausage made his mouth water.

“I’m very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself.” Hannibal pushed one of the tupperware dishes to Will. “A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage.” 

Will’s mouth watered, but he only fidgeted with his fork. 

Hannibal added: “All the ingredients are organic and natural.”

“Magic-free.” Will tugged up his lips. 

There was a job for psychics who could sense eldritch power like him: food testing—assessing if the food products contained too much magic. It sounded tedious. 

Will drew a breath. The fragrance tempted him into taking a forkful of the scrambled egg and a piece of sausage. He let out a hum helplessly. Gods knew how long he had not had a homemade meal. 

“It’s delicious. Thank you,” he said with a small smile, glancing up timidly. “You...didn’t have to cook for me.”

Hannibal smiled at him in pride and penitence. “I want to apologize for my analytical ambush. I had no intention to upset you.” He lowered his lashes which looked almost glowing under the sunlight. Warmth radiated from his brown-red eyes. “And I believe that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

Will’s face heated up. He blamed it to the warm steam of the food. 

“Just keep it professional,” he said.

Hannibal poured out coffee for both of them, lifting his own cup as if proposing a toast to Will. “Or we could be friends.”

Will stared at him. “Jack wants you to be my shrink.”

Hannibal shook his head. “I think all you need is a paddle, someone who could accompany you when you sail on the dark, unfathomable sea.”

Will chewed the words and the beauty of them. 

“All of the shrinks want to pry open my skull to see how that grey, ugly organ works inside it,” he mumbled at the rim of his cup, although Hannibal had already proved to be nothing like those arrogant and tasteless shrinks.

Hannibal put down his fork. “When I find a gem, I will polish it and admire it;I will never want to break it. You have a beautiful mind, Will. I could not deny that I have curiosity about you, but it is not limited to your empathy, and I would respect the line you draw, just like a good friend would do.”

It sounded fair enough. Will hummed. “I don’t find you that interesting.”

Hannibal smirked. Challenge accepted. “You will.”

Will shifted on his chair. 

Hannibal asked after a long moment, “Would you like to indulge my curiosity?”

Will huffed, “If you’d indulge mine.”

Hannibal finished the last bite of his food first. “You mentioned you could sense eldritch magic. I would like to hear more about it.”

Will frowned. “It’s nothing special.”

“It is to someone who cannot sense it,” Hannibal said. “I wonder how it smells like.”

Weird question. Will twisted his lips. He swallowed the last piece of sausage before answering: “It’s bitter, sometimes with a tinge of sweetness underneath.”

“It is like dark chocolate then.”

Will laughed in surprise. “Well, you could say that.” He wiped his lips with his tongue, his gaze shifting around to find a place to hide. “Half-bloods do have a stronger scent when they have thicker ichor, yeah, just like chocolate with higher concentration of cacao.” 

Hannibal nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin elegantly. “How about the kins who do not have a drop of ichor?”

“They also have the scent, only fainter, easy to be mistaken as a residue. And the scent is impure.”

“Impure?”

“Like mixed with other smells,” Will said. “Also if they are only mutated human beings, they will have much weaker scent than the kins who have the blood of other eldritch creatures.”

“You could tell a half-blood and a kin apart without looking at the colour of their blood. Intriguing.” Hannibal’s gaze burnt Will’s cheeks. “Did you mistake me for a godkin in Jack’s office because of the residual magic on me?

“I...I don’t know. It was way purer and stronger than anything I’d sensed before.” Perhaps it belonged to a powerful entity who had visited Jack not long before he entered the room? Perhaps a Royal…?

“Have you met a god before, Will?” Hannibal asked as if reading his mind, which made him look up with widened eyes.

“No. Have you?”

Hannibal slowly evinced a mysterious smile. 

“It is an honour to meet those above us,” he said, tidying up the utensils. “It requires a strong mind, however. Getting too close to the eldritch beings or knowledge we should not touch could often drive one’s mind deranged. One might say seeking gods is a foolish, self-destructive act.”

“Is there any of us who isn’t self-destructive?” Will grimaced behind his cup. “Evolution has programmed us to self-destruct. We love arguing, fighting, smashing the head of whoever disagrees with us or even just appears different from us. It’s a miracle for humanity to exist at all, thank the Great Old Ones.”

His sarcastic tones draw wrinkles around Hannibal’s eyes.

“Gods are fond of killing as we do,” Hannibal said. “Aren’t we the mirror image of them?”

Will hummed, not knowing how to reply. He placed down his half-empty cup, studying the bubbles and the brown rings inside it absentmindedly. The bitterness of something else lingered on his tongue. “I don’t think it was the Shrike who killed that girl in the field.”

“What gave it away?”

“Everything.” Will waved his hand. “He had taken out her lungs when she was still alive. She was found naked, her abdomen wide open, having nothing to cover her body. It’s totally distinctive from love. It’s a humiliation. It’s...” He rubbed his face, searching for proper words to convey his jumbled thoughts. “It’s like..it's like he was trying to help me to see the Shrike. It...felt like an offering.” He bit his lip. “A gift from a god.”

Hannibal looked at him closely, ruminating. Will noticed he seldom blinked, as if he only blinked when he remembered he had to do so. 

“Based on your tones, I gather it is not a metaphor,” Hannibal said.

Will shook his head.

Hannibal glanced at the golden view outside the window. The contours of his face looked sharp against the sunlight. 

“The hunting season has begun,” he said in a casual way as one would when mentioning the weather. 

Will never had that ease upon hearing the season. 

When Will was in fifth grade, there was a boy who had received a letter congratulating him on having the honour to be one of the tributes that year. The class held a farewell party for him. There were cupcakes, popcorn, chicken nuggets, cheese balls, soda, and a large cream cake. The boy was crying, saying he was happy to be chosen and he wished the gods would bless all of them. When his parents were about to pick him up, he could not control his bladder. His parents also panicked, afraid that they did not have enough time to clean him up before handing him to the church, and as they finally dragged the boy out of the classroom, the boy looked back in tears, but no one dared to say a word. 

Will could not sleep for days afterwards.

Even after he had passed the age of twelve, every time he checked the mailbox he still had the same fear of seeing the blood-red invitation letter waiting for him.

Will inhaled to shake off the haunting memory. 

“Gods kill us for sport,” he said, “They won’t just kill one person. And they will only make a mess;they won’t make art like this.” He said the compliment out loud without a thought. He ducked his head, ready for being lectured. 

Hannibal said instead: “Death has its own beauty. Only that not a lot of people know how to appreciate it. You and I share a similar taste.”

Hannibal smiled to himself and sipped the coffee. Will also took a gulp but with slight awkwardness.

“Have you told Jack about your thoughts?” Hannibal asked.

Will lapped the liquid on his lips. “I told him it was a copycat. I have no proof that it was a god.”

Hannibal inquired him with a confused look. 

Will said, “There was no musk on the corpse or in the air or anywhere. I didn’t catch a thing.”

“The body was placed in an open area. The wind must have swept the scent away overnight.”

Would it? “That sounds like a lame explanation, Doctor.”

Hannibal hushed him, whispering as if warning a child that the Winter Goat would come and eat them alive if they dared to misbehave, “Never harbour doubts to your intuition, Will. I trust mine as well as yours.”

The soft beam made Will’s gaze scuttle away. 

Will drank the last drop of the coffee and excused himself to change his clothes. When he closed the bathroom door, he realized Hannibal had not actually answered him if he had met a god before, but the suitable moment for it had fled. 

  
Will did not turn on the car radio. Hannibal did not ask for it either. The humming of car engine filled the silence. 

Will had thought the prestige doctor might not be comfortable in a rental car, however, somehow a brisk air surrounded the man. Not to be rude, but Hannibal looked like a dog that could barely keep his rear on the floor.

Will could not resist to ask when he pulled over. “What are you smiling about?”

“Peeking behind the curtain,” Hannibal said. “I am curious how the FBI goes about its business when it is not kicking in doors.”

Will harrumphed. “We’re lucky we’re not doing house to house interviews. We found a piece of metal in the clothes Elise Nichols had on. A shred from a pipe threader.”

Hannibal blinked. “Jack Crawford wants me to make sure you are of sound mind and body...to look for metal pipe threaders?”

It fished out a laugh from Will’s throat.

“It requires a strong mind.” Will mirrored the expression Hannibal had shown when saying it. “Getting too close to the pipe threaders could often drive one’s mind deranged.”

Hannibal hummed with a small smile. “There are hundreds of construction sites in Minnesota.”

“Certain kind of metal, pipe, and pipe coating… We’re looking at construction sites that use that kind of pipe.”

“And what are we looking for?”

“Anything peculiar.”

They entered the office which was managed by a kin who had spidery eyes and fingers. She squinted at Will’s badge before letting them in to survey the files.

Will kept his head low, trying his best to ignore her suspicious gaze and Hannibal’s curious glance on him. The noises of the construction site disrupted his thoughts every time he tried to concentrate.

He paced and stopped at a name. 

“Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

His voice hissed in the air, refusing to fade. 

He swallowed. 

“Does he have a daughter?” He asked the secretary.

“Might have.”

“Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chafed? Plain but pretty? She would have auburn hair. About this tall.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t keep company with these people,” the godkin said, turning back to mind her own business.

Will stared at the name. It writhed in his vision. 

“What is it about him you find so peculiar?” Hannibal’s breath tickled his ear. He flinched away reflexively.

“Er, left, left a phone number. No address.” 

“Therefore he has something to hide?”

Will shrugged. “Everyone else left an address.”

They asked the secretary to help packing the boxes into the car trunk. There were too many files. Will’s head hurt at the sight of it.

The tall stack on Hannibal’s hands slid off when he handed it to the secretary. Paper was everywhere. Will hurried to help, nearly stepping on a few pieces of paper.

When they were ready to leave Will was half-exhausted. If he must choose between paperwork and crime scenes, he would choose the latter without a thought. At least he would not be the hapless one who needed to clean up all the mess.

“Are we going to interview Garret Jacob Hobbs?” Hannibal asked. A whiff of musk drifted out from his clothes as he buckled up;he must have gotten it from the godkin. 

Not minding the insignificant scent, Will turned on the heater. “And other workers. Especially the ones who resigned around eight months ago.”

“Could you tell if someone is a killer by a glance?”

“Sometimes.” Will pulled the seat belt over his chest. “Sometimes I need to observe for a while or talk to them.”

“You have the insight into the souls of man,” Hannibal said in admiration. 

Will shook his head. “I’d rather not have it.”

  
The sound was back again.

Will drew out his gun once he slammed close the car door. Winds carrying the unnatural coldness engulfed him. 

“Stay behind, Doctor.” He warned Hannibal who got out of the car in blissful ignorance. Will envied him.

Will quickly ran into the quiet house. Hot aroma of food flowed into his quickened chest before the acidic fear struck him, but none was stronger than the musk which permeated the entire house, dense and viscous beyond compare. 

Will coughed, choked instantly. Every breath he took in was pure eldritch magic suffusing all of his alveoli and sweeping into his bloodstream, slowly poisoning his mind and soul. 

A god. It was a god. It was a god.

Will’s trembling lips chanted on their own as he followed the crimson trail on the floor, stumbling through the corridor. He stopped.

A woman lay motionlessly among the broken plates on the kitchen floor. Human tooth marks covered all over her body. Her throat was bitten off and her stomach was wide open, half of the innards gone. Yet, the most horrifying sight was on her face—torn, all of the features unrecognizable with only the hollow eye sockets left. The broken eyeballs discarded on the floor stared at Will.

Will staggered backwards, but the trail did not end here. Blood had been splattered over the door frame of the back door and paved a path to a hunting cabin, the door of which was ajar, swinging. The munching sound behind it scratched Will’s spine.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs? F.B.I.!” He yelled at the silhouette and shove open the door with his shoulder.

Garret Jacob Hobbs had no reaction, neither the girl on the ground. 

Blood gushed out from her neck;guts leaked out from the crack on her abdomen. Her liver was on her father’s hands, a huge chunk of it missing. 

Garret Jacob Hobbs stuffed more into his mouth, biting his own fingers off.

Gunshots rang in Will’s ears before he realized he had pulled the trigger. 

Blood exploded from the monster’s chest and splashed over Will’s face, hot and boiling and powerful. He shot, and shot again, and again.

The bullets pushed Garret Jacob Hobbs off from the girl and onto the ground. He glared at Will with his busted eyes, choking in blood and pieces of meat. “They know… They know… See? See…”

Will tore his gaze away. He dropped to his knees to check the girl. She was still breathing, but instead of asking for help, she scratched her face with her fractured nails repeatedly. One of her eyes was no longer there.

“They know…” She whispered. “They know… Oh, our lord...has come… All, all hail The…”

She could not say the name. Death had drowned her life.

Will wanted to scream but the calming coldness stifled all of the sounds.

  
The forensic team packed the corpses and pushed them away on carts. Sharp sound of zippers and wheels clattered in the viscid air. This was not the end. The bodies would go through dissection and be packed up again, ready to be buried in the stomachs of the gods, like everyone would be. Only spoiled meat could rest in fire or under the dirt.

Will leaned against the rental car, feeling numb. He imagined his own death. Blood dried on his skin.

Hannibal stayed by his side silently, grounding him to the present.

“I want to go home,” Will said without a sound.

  
Hannibal helped him to buy the plane ticket and put his luggage in the overhead bin, which were unnecessary, but Will was too weak to protest. He only spoke when the good doctor let him to take the seat first, “No, you can sit by the windows. I’m ok… Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

And they sat just as he wanted.

A flight attendant walking by asked him if he was fine. Hannibal explained that he was afraid of flying.

“Do you sense him up here? The Eagle?” After the plane took off, Hannibal asked in genuine concern.

Will shook his head. “Just knowing he is here makes me unnerved.”

He took two pills of aspirin and leaned against the back of his seat, trying to focus on his breathing. He had taken a long shower until his skin was stingy and red, yet he still smelled like a strong half-blood.

He pondered which god the Hobbs had seen.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are still confused:   
> half-bloods are offspring of the gods and they bleed green because they have ichor in their body, while kins are mutated human beings or offspring of other eldritch creatures and they don't have a drop of ichor. 'Godkin' is a general term referring to both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
Will stepped into the lecture hall with his gaze downcast. He imagined himself wading a shallow shore. Sand collapsed beneath his bare feet. Water retreated and returned—applause instead of crash of surf dragged him back to the land.

He glanced back in alert. All of his students had stood at their seats and saluted in awe.

“Thank you,” he said uncomfortably. “Please stop that.”

The sound tapered off, but one of the trainees raised a tentacle—a half-blood or a kin, Will could not tell, as all of the scents had mingled together—“Which Royal Member did you have the honour to meet in Minnesota, Professor?”

Will flinched inwardly at the fanaticism. 

“I didn’t have the luck to meet them;they had left before I arrived,” he said. “Though it was an honour to breathe in the same air with them, if they breathed at all.” He added the last part just to satisfy them. “Now be quiet if you want me to tell you more.”

He put down his bag and set up to begin his lecture. Light dimmed to bring out a picture of Hobbs’ resignation letter. 

“This is how I caught Garret Jacob Hobbs. It's his resignation letter. Anybody sees the clue?”

A few hesitant hands and limbs raised.

“There isn’t one.” He dismissed them, his gaze fixed in midair. “He wrote a letter, left his phone number...but no address. That’s it. Bad bookkeeping and dumb luck.”

He skipped to the next slide. The horrific sight of the dead man hovered on his head. His trainees stared at it, absorbed.

“I found him when he was eating his daughter’s liver raw. His eyes were gone, so were his wife’s and his daughter’s eyes;they had scratched their own eyes out. It is a common behaviour for those who do not have a strong mind but come too close to the eldritch world. Do you know the term for it?” 

He waved at one of the trainees.

“Self-enucleation?”

“Yes. Or auto-enucleation, a kind of self-mutilations which involves removal of one’s own eyes.” He sat at the edge of the desk, fidgeting with his pointer. “It is said that these people did it out of fear, because they couldn’t bear what they had witnessed, the magnificence of the cosmos.

“Another theory some of the cults believe is: removing one’s physical eyes could open their inner eyes, as they wouldn’t have the mortal eyes leading them astray anymore, allowing them to see the real world. 

“Either way, we cannot tell what the Hobbs had seen. Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. The question now is how to stop those his story is going to inspire. He’s already got one admirer.”

He inhaled deeply, bracing himself to see the image of the antler girl. 

“A human, or a godkin.” 

Or a god.

He kept the last one to himself.

  
Will announced the end of the lecture and packed his belongings quickly. A few trainees walked into his view but his distancing look sent them away. He liked to encourage them to think on their own, he would argue.

He grabbed up his bag when an intense scent of musk drifted into the room. 

“Hi.” He greeted Alana. 

Alana waved at him, her body swaying with her movements like a liquid. She was a half-blood, a strong one, but Will seldom found discomfort in her company.

“How are you, Will?” She advanced to his desk with a soft smile. 

“I have no idea.” Will lowered his head, mirroring her smile.

“That may change.”

Will quirked his brows, and for a split second she seemed to be frozen in embarrassment.

“I didn't want you to be ambushed—”

“Is this an ambush?”

She shook her head. Ripples ran through her ink-like skin. “Ambush is later. Immediately later, soon to now. When Jack arrives consider yourself ambushed.”

Will glanced at the entrance subconsciously, catching Jack there.

“Here's Jack,” He huffed.

The man he welcomed the least marched into the hall. 

“How was the class?” Jack asked. Will would bet ten bucks that Jack had no even a slight interest in his answer.

“They applauded.” Will played with the strap of his bag. What kind of crazy worlds was he living in? They saw him as a hero because they thought he had meet a god and somehow managed to remain intact and sane, not because he had caught a serial killer and saved many lives. “It was inappropriate.”

“Review board would beg to differ,” Jack said. “You’re up for a commendation and they okayed active return to the field.”

Will bit his lips.

As if he had asked for it. 

Commendation. What a fancy word. What they wanted was only a valuable tool, and they would dump him back into the trash bin once they broke him.

“Question is…” Alana said in carefulness, “do you want to go back in the field?”

“I want you to go back in the field,” Jack said without waiting for a reaction from him, “but I told the Board I'm recommending a psych evaluation.”

Will jerked his head up. “Are we starting now?” 

No, no, not with Alana. She was the only one in this world he consider a friend. He could not let the madness in his head out, not in front of her.

“Session wouldn't be with me.” Alana reassured him with a smile.

Then who would be that lucky shrink that could have a chance to poke his brain?

“Hannibal Lecter might be a better fit,” Jack said. “Your relationship's not as personal.” Oh, the great cosmos, only if he were that blind not to notice the way Hannibal leered at him. “But if you'd be more comfortable with Dr. Bloom—”

“I'm not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head.” Will protested loudly.

“You’ve faced a Royal—”

“To be precise, I’ve _almost_ faced a Royal, and I haven’t, and I will never ever pluck my eyes out.”

“You've never killed someone before, Will,” Alana added. “It's a deadly force encounter. It's a lot to digest.”

Will paused, his voice softened. “I used to work homicide. I've got a good metabolism.”

Jack shook his head. “Reason you currently ‘used to’ work homicide is you couldn't stomach pulling the trigger. You just pulled the trigger ten times.”

“Bad aiming.” Will scuffed to the exit, making a detour to avoid them. “I need a shooting session rather than a therapy session which never works on me.”

“‘Cause you won't let it.”

“‘Cause I know all the tricks.”

“Un-learn some tricks.”

Will turned back, grabbing his bag’s strap with his trembling hand.

Alana took a step towards him, begging him with her eyes. “Why not have a conversation with Hannibal? He was there. He knows what you went through.”

  
Will perched at the edge of the sofa, ruffling his hair every ten seconds. His eyes roamed around relentlessly. He tried to find something to settle his mind on, like the dark floral patterns on the cushions, the smooth texture of the sofa leather, or the softness of the wool rug which nearly covered the whole floor of the waiting room, but none of them could distract him from his fast-pacing thoughts. 

It would only be a conversation. Once he got the paper done he could go home right away. 

It was what Jack wanted, but was it what he wanted? Going back to the field and letting the cases mess up his mind?

He bounced onto his feet. His gaze shifted to the exit but he forced it back. 

You could save lives. Another voice in his heart said. He was gifted. He should not waste it. He could make this fallen world a slightly better place by hunting the monsters down.

He flexed his hands, recollecting the weight of his gun and the taste of copper.

He wanted to kill more monsters—

“ _The Sea of Dream_.”

Will blinked and whirled around, greeted by Hannibal’s thin smile. When did he open the door and how long had he been standing there? Was he analyzing him already? And was it just his suit or he had become more attractive?

Will cleared his throat. “Sorry?”

“The painting you were looking at.” 

Will followed Hannibal’s gesture in bewilderment, which guided his gaze back to the painting above the couch at which he had been staring absentmindedly. 

He hummed in awkwardness. Hannibal stepped outside of the office and stood beside him.

“It depicts the Blind Idiot God in his long slumber,” Hannibal said. “We were the broken boats floating on this tempestuous sea named reality.”

Will stared at the god in the middle of the dark sea. “It looked like he was drowning.”

“Is it how you see him?” Hannibal asked, amused. “Drowned in his own creation?”

“Just in this painting.” Will shrugged. “How do you see him?” He glanced at Hannibal and realized the doctor’s eyes were on him intently. He looked away.

“Devouring the sea, the same way we draw a deep breath when we wake up,” Hannibal said. “He was about to be awake. This was the last minute before the end of his dream.”

“Also the end of everything.”

Hannibal smiled and stepped aside, gesturing for Will to enter his office.

Will glanced around with wide eyes, wondering if he had stepped into the wrong room. Yes, it had a couch and a pair of armchairs facing each other, but it looked nothing like a psychiatrist’s office with these luxurious design and ornaments. Will would believe it was a study if Hannibal told him so. 

Hannibal instead closed the door and approached him with the clear intention to help him take off his jacket. 

He dodged away. 

“I, I’m ok. Don’t bother,” he said, only letting the doctor to hang his jacket after he shrugged it off. He left his gloves on as usual.

A cold wind made him shiver. 

He turned his head at it. Curtains with red and grey stripes wafted gently. 

“Your windows are open,” he said.

Hannibal nodded. “Thought it would be better to keep the room ventilated. I have some objects that might emit eldritch magic, and my last appointment was with a godkin patient. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with the musk accumulated in the room.”

Will gave Hannibal a grateful look. “That’s alright. I’m used to it.” 

Hannibal closed the windows as Will asked. 

In the brief moment of silence Will had shifted his weight a few times and almost tripped himself. It was like when you bumped into a friend you had had no contact with for years and you did not know how to talk to them again—were you two still friends? What should you say except the weather was good today? Wait, what if you mistook them as someone you knew?

Hannibal smiled. “Need not worry, Will. You and I are simply having conversation.”

He hated the last word since the day he was born.

“And after the ‘conversation’ you are going to write me a psych evaluation.” Will huffed and wandered off, unable to stand still in his nervousness. 

Hannibal followed him with faint footsteps, clicking the wooden floor like deer hooves.

“May I ask you more about your psychic abilities?”

The arupt question stopped him and made him look back.

“Are you sure you are a shrink not a cosmologist?” Will teased and Hannibal smiled wider as if charmed.

“It would be better for me to help you with the cases if I had a clear understanding of your abilities,” Hannibal said. “I have agreed to be a consultant for the BAU. We are in the same team now.”

Will frowned. “Not be my shrink?”

Hannibal shook his head. “As I said, Will, you need a paddle rather than a psychiatrist.”

That sounded good, but fishy also. “Jack thinks I need therapy.”

“I am not sure therapy will work on you,” Hannibal said. “Stealing into other minds has taught you how to fortify your own.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “So you are a consultant.”

“Yes.”

“So there is no doctor-patient confidentiality and you can tell Jack whatever I tell you.”

“I can assure you, Will, I will only tell Jack if you are alright,” Hannibal said. “Everything remains secret between us.”

Will eyed the doctor but found no sign of lying. “Ok.” 

Hannibal smiled to wave away the tensed air. “Can you tell me more about your abilities? ”

“So you can learn how to tell if I am hallucinating or just doing my thing?” Will twisted his lips, tapping the back of the armchair. “Besides the musk, I can sense traces of emotion and death.”

Hannibal tilted his head. “How does death feel like?”

Will lifted up his gaze, unfocused. “Cold.” He wetted his lips. “Peaceful, in some way.”

Hannibal nodded after a moment, walking to his desk to tidy something, his back blocking the view. “You can smell and touch. The world must be distressing to you sometimes.”

“Not only ‘sometimes’.” Will drew a breath. “I smell, I touch, I see, I hear. I can’t shut it down as long as I have consciousness.”

  
Hannibal turned around in slight surprise. “Jack sees you fragile. It is only because he has no idea what you are facing everyday, every minute. You have a strong mind, Will.” He looked at Will in admiration. “I cannot imagine how horrendous this world is to you, with all those spawns of gods around you.”

“‘Spawns of gods.’” Will blinked. “That’s...an unusual choice of words.” As if the gods were fish or amphibians.

The physiology of the Great Old Ones was totally different from human’s, they also reproduced in different ways other than copulating. They could impregnate other life forms or get impregnated by sights, sounds, smells, or other unknown methods, but their offspring were all born from wombs.

“It is a term originated nine hundreds years ago,” Hannibal said. “An old story, might or might not be true.”

Will stood straight. “I still have enough sanity to handle some eldritch knowledge.”

Hannibal smiled. “Some gods have woken, yet, only for a while. The Mother, or the Devourer and the Mother of Lives was one of them.

“She ate but she did not digest. Organisms devoured would be dissolved and reconstructed into embryos carrying her genes before she laid them. Her eggs looked like fish’s or frog’s spawns. 

“Her children varied a lot. Some had intelligence, while some did not;some looked like her, while some looked like the original organisms. They reproduced in the same way until their blood was too thin and they resorted to other methods. It was said that the majority of the half-blood in that time were her offsprings. ”

“Woke up in the middle of the night, grabbed something to eat, then laid some eggs.” Will laughed dryly. See, curiosity would crack your skull. “I think I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

Hannibal smiled. “Having such a sensitive mind, sleeping must be a challenge for you. The world has too much sounds and light and magic.”

“That’s why I’m living in the middle of nowhere with my dogs—I bet you’ve figured it out already.” Will grimaced at the dog hair he just found on his pants. He raised his hand but quickly held it back. It would be better to let the fur stick to him than to the expensive rug of the doctor.

“How many dogs do you have?” Hannibal asked.

“Seven.” He giggled at Hannibal’s expression. “I find stray dogs and try to find them homes. Try to.”

“You have a big family. Would I have the honour to meet them one day?” 

Have the honour. As if his dogs were some formidable gods. Will huffed to hide his laugh. “You don’t seem like an animal person.”

“Don’t I?” Hannibal turned back to his desk. His right elbow moved as if he was writing something down. Will hoped it was not a note about him.

He walked closer to have a peep. “What’s that?”

Hannibal raised the paper to admire his signature. “Your psychological evaluation.” He handed the document to Will. “You are totally functional and more or less sane. Well done.”

Will stared at Hannibal’s smirk. For a while he could not find his voice. “Did you just rubber stamp me?”

Hannibal smiled innocently. “Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he did not break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork.”

“That’s, that’s not…” Will put the paper down. “We haven’t talked anything about it yet.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Will bit his lip. He could leave and go home now. He could go back and take care of his dogs and rest earlier. But the nightmares would come. He would wake up screaming. And no one would be there for him to talk with.

“I can try,” he said.

They sat in the armchairs. Hannibal did not pull out a notebook or a pen. 

Will relaxed a bit. He said preemptively: “Jack wants to take me back to Minnesota for further investigation.”

Hannibal raised his brows. “The Royal are entitled to kill. And apart from giving madness to the Hobbs, the god has done nothing.”

“It’s not about the god.” Will rested his back against the chair. “He wants me to look for the girls.”

“You are going to find their dead bodies.”

Will nodded. “Or more likely—nothing.”

After a moment, Hannibal asked: “Do you want to go back there?”

Will watched his hands twisting the fabric on his knees. “I don’t know.” 

With the rustling of clothes, Hannibal adjusted his posture, leaning forth to Will. “I could accompany you there if you needed me.”

Will’s gaze shifted between Hannibal and the wall behind him. “You don’t seem to be disturbed by what happened there.”

“I used to be a surgeon,” Hannibal said. “Nothing I have never seen before.”

“Even if it is someone eating his wife and daughter?”

“You learn new things everyday.”

Will frowned and laughed, though his mirth did not last long.

Hannibal asked in more formal tones: “How did you feel when you saw Garret Jacob Hobbs eating his daughter?”

Will lowered his head. “Horrified.” He licked his lips. “He was like a monster from my nightmares.”

“Was it what you saw in him when you shot him? A monster?”

Will nodded.

Hannibal tilted his head. “You saw a monster in a human being.” Rather than in a godkin or a god.

Will pressed his lips together. “His act made him a monster.”

“This is not a normal act, even for a serial killer in desperation,” Hannibal said. “He was controlled by the madness induced by a god. Do you think that god is a monster?”

Will parted his lips. Now that was a trap question. “I’m not a Restorationist, Doctor.” He laughed dryly. “We would all be fucked up if we overthrew the gods and resumed ruling ourselves.”

“Despite your foul language, I must agree with what you said,” Hannibal said. “Humanity has surpassed animal instincts but is still far away from the real intelligence, fragile and naive like a newborn chick wanting to jump out of its nest. We would be lost if we had no one looking after us.”

Will touched his lips, hiding his scornful smile. “‘Lost’ is the mildest term.”

Hannibal looked amused. “Perhaps you would prefer ‘dead’?”

“Oh, death would be the most merciful ending for us.”

Hannibal studied him. “You said death feel peaceful to you. Did you find peace in Hobbs' death?”

Will inhaled deeply. Gunshots and blood flashed in his mind. 

His throat tightened to suppress a satisfied sound. He decided to tell the truth: “I found justice.”

  



	4. Chapter 4

  
  
“It would be alright if you wanted to leave.”

Will shifted his gaze from the woods outside the car back to Hannibal, who calmed him with a reassuring smile.

Will straightened himself. “I’m ok. Let’s go.” 

He pushed open the door and got out of the rental car with Hannibal, facing the cabin of the Shrike. He breathed in the lingering musk, the cold death, and his own fear. 

He fumbled out a bottle of aspirin. Dead grass and leaves cracked beneath his heavy steps.

They crossed the police tape and followed Jack into the cabin. New scents filled Will’s nose—detergents, wood, velvet, gunpowder, and copper. Every object was tagged with a number, including the dark mark of blood on the wooden floor. The fake eyes of animal specimens on the tables and walls tinged Will’s back when he avoided the blood and headed upstairs.

He entered a cage of bones. Antlers had grown out from the walls like thick mosses covering every inch of a tree trunk. The mid-morning sunlight penetrated the canopy, illuminating the massive crowns at the end of the room, the ivory branches stained dark with dried blood. 

Will glanced over his shoulder to find Hannibal, who stayed closer to him and provided him with a sense of reality.

“There are still seven bodies unaccounted for.” Jack looked at Will like he could sniff out a bone or two from the killer’s garden.

“He ate them,” Will said in case Jack forgot they had watched the forensic team taking out raw pieces of human organs from Garret Jacob Hobbs’ stomach. 

“Had to be parts he didn't eat.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What if Hobbs wasn't eating alone,” Jack said all the sudden. “Eating all of them is a lot of work.”

“Someone he hunted with?” Will scowled. “He wouldn’t want to share his love with anyone.”

Jack looked at him, challenging. “We've been conducting house-to-house interviews around here.”

“And what's the gossip?”

“Hobbs and his daughter spent a lot of time together. They spent a lot of time together here. She would be the ideal bait, wouldn't she?”

Will paused in his pacing, sicked by the notion. “If in this case, she would have known why her father killed these girls, but she did not run away and even helped him, hunted with him, dined with him. She would argue it was for survival, but she secretly enjoyed it. Like father, like daughter.”

Perhaps the god had done a good deed, driving her father into killing her. If she had survived, they would let her go for her innocent appearance, and she would grow up into another monster, which meant he had saved the life of a monster.

Will clenched his jaw, reaching the end of the room. Among the scents of old wood and dried blood, a whiff of divine power drifted into his nose. 

A low chanting begun to sing. He whirled around to locate it, and all of his hair rose when he looked outside the window, as if there were eyes, thousands of eyes staring back at him.

“What is it, Will?” Hannibal’s voice steadied him.

He rubbed his arms to shake off the disturbing image. “There’s a residue of magic, left by a spell or something. This, this cabin was not only a place for the Shrike to butcher the girls. It served as an altar.”

Jack dropped his crossed arms. “Garret Jacob Hobbs was performing human sacrifice?”

“Not his main reason to kill. Only a part of his hunt.” Will stepped aside to let Hannibal study the antlers.

“Was the god who appeared here the one he worshipped?” Hannibal bent slightly to look at the blood. “Did he successfully summon a god to his land?”

“He was self-destructive before the god drove him mad?” Will grimaced. “He and his daughter kept saying the same thing before they died—‘they know.’ It feels more likely that the god had come to warn him, but of course it did not help him at all.”

Hannibal hummed in disagreement. “The madness bestowed upon him encouraged him to do what he always craved but did not dare to do. Like some gods who would listen to prayers, this god granted his wish.”

“Be careful of what you wish for,” Will said with a dry laugh. 

Thinking they were done here, Will sneaked towards the stairs, but a new, yet fainter musk coming from the ground caught his attention. He crouched and turned on his flashlight. On the floor where the light hit lay a long strand of hair which glowed dimly like a piece of dying coal.

He looked up at Hannibal and Jack. “Someone else was here.”

Jack pulled a face. “Freddie Lounds.”

The forensic team took pictures of the strand, but when they tried to pick it up with tweezers, it crumbled into ashes.

“Freddie Lounds?” Hannibal said when he and Will walked out of the cabin, causing Will to look around in alert. “Is she the half-blood who writes Tattle Crime?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Will pinched the bridge of his nose and paused. “Don’t tell me you read that bullshit.”

Hannibal went silent.

Will grunted, which gained him a smile saying he was adorable. He turned his face away.

  
Will took off his earmuffs and reeled in the target. It swung slightly like a hooked fish. Bullet holes were here and there.

“I'm pretty sure firearm accuracy isn't a prerequisite for teaching.”

Will snapped his head at the voice to find Beverly behind him. She smiled.

“I took me ten shots to drop Hobbs,” he said. His muscles tensed because of the closeness between them.

Beverly took a step back subtly. “He was frenzied,” she said. “He’d seen the most terrifying thing in the world. Pain was nothing to him.”

Will hummed. He got a new target and shot it under Beverly’s watch, missing it entirely. He cursed himself under his breath. 

Beverly was not commenting about his poor aim however. “You're a Weaver. I took you for an isosceles guy.”

“I have a rotator cuff issue.” He shrugged and rotated his rigid shoulders. “Got stabbed when I was a cop.”

“I got stabbed in the third grade. With a number 2 pencil.” She raised her chin as if she was showing off. “Thought I was going to get lead poisoning.”

Will frowned. “Lead was only used to write in the ancient Roman. That’s graphite.”

“Now you tell me,” Beverly mumbled, then she looked at him with her hands raised. “Your posture is not good. Can I touch you? Just your shoulder and elbow. Not your butt, don’t worry.”

Will laughed but shook his head. “You can tell me what to do.”

So she advised him to lower his right shoulder and flare his left elbow. “You can sense me even when I’m not touching your skin directly?”

“I’m simply not used to touching.”

Will adjusted his body and gave it a try. It was clearly a better aim.

He smiled at Beverly. “You come all the way down here to teach me how to shoot?”

She smirked. “Jack sent me down here to find out what you know about gardening.”

  
Fungus. A scavenger which could grow everywhere—on wood, on walls, on ceilings, also on living bodies.

Will stared at one of the corpses which were newly-unearthed from their shallow graves. Mushroom bloomed on them.

“Seven bodies,” Jimmy said across from Will. “The fungi have eaten all the distinguishing features and made it nearly impossible to tell how long they'd been in the ground. But what is for sure is that there are three human and four godkins. Buried alternatively.” He gestured at the bodies as if displaying a tray of jewelleries. “Godkin, human, godkin, human…”

That was something. 

“They were all alive when buried, well, more accurately, half-dead;they died within minutes,” said Brian, who stood beside Will with Beverly. “And we’ve found something interesting.” He smiling proudly. “All of their eyes were gone.”

Will frowned. “Must have been eaten by the mushrooms.”

“Might be. But look at this.” Brian crouched and lifted the head of the corpse in front of him. The skull looked like a cracked, spoiled egg, except it was filled with hyphae and leftover brain tissue instead of egg white and yolk. 

“Missing eyeballs and cracked skulls. Sounds familiar? Grant us eyes, grant us the inner eyes.” Brian sang, the chant particularly disturbing from his inhuman jaw.

Beverly huffed. “Those cults have been doing this for centuries and it never works.”

“Trial and error is a taboo to them.”

Jack walked to them, though he asked mostly to Will, “Is it a cult?”

“Doesn’t seem like a cult. I don’t know.” Will fidgeted with his glasses. “When the godkin kids found the bodies here they disturbed the air, there’re corpses of godkins, and the crowd also adds some scents to the air. All the smells are mingled together. Can’t even tell if those who buried them here are godkins or not.”

He searched the corpses with his gaze, glancing over the outstretched limbs and hands supported by rebars. He followed them and looked up. The blinding sun made his eyes tear.

  
“Good evening, Will,” Hannibal said softly. He was in a dark blue suit with a red tie today, while Will was again wearing his old jacket.

It had been three weeks since their first session, Will already felt he was starting to run out of clothes, but Hannibal had not worn any of his suits more than once. He also no longer dressed ‘casually’ like the first two times when they had met each other. Will somehow had a feeling that he was peacocking.

Will smiled sheepishly and stepped inside the office.

“How was your day?” Hannibal asked as Will ventured deeper into the room. 

“As usual.” Will craned his head from side to side, squeezing his aching shoulders. “And yours?”

“Not as exciting as yours.”

Will huffed. “We have a new case,” he said. “I bet you’ve read it on Tattle Crime.”

“‘The Mushroom Cult.’” Hannibal followed Will to the desk, where Will run his fingers over his books and stationery half-heartedly.

Will snorted at the uncreative title. 

“I don’t think it is a cult.” He lifted his hips and sat at the edge of the desk, his body turning slightly towards the doctor. “Cults want to summon gods. They won’t bury the tributes;they put them on altars to serve gods. This...feels like a farmer trying to use corpses as a new kind of fertilizer to cultivate mushrooms.”

Hannibal gave a nod. “Mycelium kill forests over and over, building deeper soil to grow larger and larger trees.”

“If it were just about the soil, why bother burying them in a straight line and alternating humans and godkins?”

Hannibal glanced at the wood pattern on his desk. “The structure of a fungus mirrors that of the human brain. An intricate web of connections.”

Will hummed. “Maybe he admires their ability to connect the way our minds can't.”

Hannibal tilted his head, looking at Will warmly. “Yours can.”

Will looked away, smiling and blushing. “Not physically. Not with reciprocity.”

Hannibal did not respond. Will shifted his gaze back to catch the man staring at his lips.

“Doc, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal smiled. “Can I hold your hand, Will?”

Will looked down at Hannibal’s hand which reached slowly for his gloved one. He swallowed but he neither said a word nor flinched away.

Hannibal touched the back of his hand, so lightly that he could barely feel it through the wool. He relaxed a bit, letting his fingers be held in the doctor’s hand.

Hannibal rewarded him with a charming smile which he could not face without blushing. 

They stayed like that for a while. 

Hannibal asked in a softer voice, “Would it be alright if I took off your glove?”

“I, I don’t know.” When was the last time someone touched him directly? He could not recall, though he could say for sure that it had been an accident and he had hated it. But he liked Hannibal. He felt comfortable around him. He wanted to be closer to the man.

“Can we have a try?” Hannibal stroked the fabric of Will’s glove with his thumb. “I will stop it once you tell me so.”

Hannibal was a gentleman. Will had no doubt about him.

He nodded tentatively. 

Hannibal’s fingers climbed to his wrist, pulling down the glove without touching him. The warm air of the room touched his hand and that was when he realized his hands were cold and sweating. His face was burning and his heart beat fast as if he had been stripped naked.

Hannibal glanced up behind his long lashes—he looked too attractive doing that, how could anyone be that attractive—“Do you want to put it back on?”

Will shook his head, not trusting his voice.

The doctor approached him again. A light touch landed on his fingertips. It stung like a strong current of static electricity. His fingers twitched in reflex but relaxed after he took a deep breath, flaring open like a shy bud.

Hannibal tried touching the back of his hand. He touched there once and again, carefully enveloping Will’s with his strong hand. It was hot, scorching even. 

Will heard rustling—a pencil adding shade to a face. 

“You drew me,” he said, dizzy at this dream-like moment.

“I did.” Hannibal smiled. “I would like to show you the sketches, but I don’t want to let you go at this moment.”

“Doctor Lecter, I—”

“Please call me Hannibal.”

Will bit his lips, drawing a deep breath to find his courage. 

“Hannibal…” he whispered, “are you...are you serious about this? About us?”

Hannibal nodded. “I decided to pursuit you the moment I first laid my eyes upon you.”

“But we barely know each other.” Will’s gaze scampered around, half-expecting someone would hop out from the corners and laugh at him, saying it was a prank.

Hannibal chuckled. “I am not asking you to marry me. Not now.”

“I...I have never been with anyone before,” Will said. “I mean, I had some dates ages ago but none last long. They all ran away once they learnt how wicked I am.”

“I forbid you to speak such of yourself,” Hannibal said firmly. “They were not worth of you. They were blind to how beautiful you are.”

It was so sweet that it pained Will’s heart.

Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand subconsciously, not willing to let go despite his reluctant words. “You, you need to know that I’m not a regular man.”

“Of course you are not.”

“No, I… I don’t think I can be intimate with you,” Will blurted out and tensed. “No, it’s not you, I mean, I just don’t like touches. I am not used to being touched nor touching other people.” He drew a breath. “Sex is overwhelming. You’d have nothing to hide from me, and I’d also have nothing to hide from you. It scares me.”

“It is scary to find out the one you love does not love you back.” Hannibal gave him an understanding smile. “But you are holding my hand right now, Will, have you felt any insincerity in my feelings for you?”

Will shook his head again, still confused, scared.

“I will not force you, Will. We can keep your pace. We have all the time in the world. Even if you decided not to be physically intimate with me, it would not affect my feelings to you, no matter what. You are what I truly want. Sex and physical intimacy are a part of love, but not a necessary part of love.” Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand. “You don’t have to give me an answer immediately. Go and take some time to consider.”

  
Will left for home earlier. He flopped onto his bed after feeding his dogs, burying his face onto his pillow. A wet nose nudged his forearm. He got up, smiling at Winston. 

“Hannibal said he wants to be my boyfriend.” He giggled and hid his face in his hands. “Well, he didn’t really say that… I don’t think he would call me his boyfriend. Maybe lover, or partner?”

Winston nudged him again, whining. He scratched the mutt’s chin while getting a tennis ball from his nightstand to fidget with. “No, no, I haven’t said yes.”

Winston tilted his head as if asking why not.

“It’s not I don’t want to be with him.” Will threw the ball at the floor, but Winston caught it once it bounced back. Winston placed the ball onto his thighs. He sighed and fondled the dog’s fur instead. “I know, he’s a perfect gentleman. He’s handsome, he’s polite, patient, gentle… He knows tons of things—he can draw, he can play, he can cook—he’s good at everything. I don’t know why a man like him would have interest in me.”

Will fell back onto his bed. Winston whined loudly, asking why he wouldn’t give them a chance when they both wanted to be with each other.

Will grunted. “You should be on my side, Winston.”

  
Another human had went missing.

Will quickly got out his his car and joined his team in front of the pharmacy. Armed, dark-clad agents ran pass his periphery, surrounding and filing into the building. A low humming was in the air.

“She’s the second one disappeared from this location,” Jack said, striding to the main door. 

“The other seven?” Will asked.

“All over the county. One human pharmacist has been all over the county, too.”

“A floater.”

“Floater's floating right here. Still logged into his work station.”

They entered the store and bolted pass the aisles, aiming right at the pharmacy counter.

“Everyone. Stop what you're doing and put your hands in the air.”

Jack’s yell startled the pharmacists into raising their hands. Will and other agents looked at the humans behind the counter, searching for a face which matched the profile picture, but it generated a window for a man to bolt to the back door.

“Eldon Stammets! FBI!”

They chased the man out of the building. He dashed but before he could reach his car, dozens of guns encircled him. Weapon lights lit his pale, inhuman face.

“A human pharmacist?” Will mumbled.

“No record of him applying for legal mutagens,” Jimmy said as Stammets pulled out a handgun with his claw-like fingers, wielding it desperately. 

“I didn’t kill them,” he argued.

“Why don’t you come with us and help us investigate?” Jack asked.

“You don’t understand. I helped them. I helped them to abandon their mortal bodies, to transcend like the gods. The children of the gods can help us to seek our lords, to speak to them.”

“Drop your weapon before it is too late.”

“You need to understand. I’ve found a way to transcend humanity!”

“You don’t want to die, Stammets,” Will said, though he doubted anyone could persuade this crazy man. “Or a fervent worshipper like you would have buried themself ages ago.”

“I do this not for myself. But it is on my plan. It was.” Stammets laughed. “Feed me to our lords.”

He pointed his gun at his temple but Will was faster—Will shot and the momentum of the bullet shove Stammets’ hand back. The handgun dropped onto the ground and got kicked away by a nearby agent while the others ran to cuff its owner.

The warning noise did not recede. Will’s eyes widened. “Check his car.”

Without waiting he sprinted to the car and smashed the window to reach in and unlock the trunk. Jack and Brian lift the lid quickly. Plunging into the reek and the soil, they uncovered a woman’s body. Her eyes were gone and her skull was broken. Life had forsaken her.

  
Warm light spilling out from the windows of Hannibal’s office, Will relaxed his shoulders and pulled over. 

Hannibal had told him he was free after 7 pm on every working day when they were picking the suitable time slot for their meetings. 

Classical piano music was playing in the background, reassuring Will that Hannibal was alone.

He inhaled and knocked on the door. The music stopped, followed by a faint rustling. 

“Will.” Hannibal greeted him in a tinge of surprise.

“Hi,” Will said. Now calling Hannibal “Doctor Lecter” or his name had became equally awkward. “I, er, you are still staying here even when you have finished your work?”

“I was about to leave—”

“Oh, I shouldn’t bother you. I didn’t know what I was thinking about. I will leave now.”

“Will.” Hannibal called him. “My door is always open to you.” Hannibal waved his hand to urge him in.

Will glanced around the room habitually. The fire had died in the fireplace. A sketchbook lay on Hannibal’s desk, closed tightly. Intuition told Will that Hannibal had picked him as his muse again. He lowered his head with a smile.

“How is the case?” Hannibal asked.

Tiredness returned to Will’s shoulders. He sat on the couch. “The Farmer had got another victim. A human. We found her in his car, but we were too late.”

“Her death is not your fault.” Hannibal sat beside him. “You have found his car, which means you are close to catching him and saving other lives.”

“We’ve found him.” Will shook his head. “He tried to kill himself. I shot his hand and knocked his gun away.”

“You are upset because instead of saving an innocent life, you saved a monster’s life.”

“I don’t consider I saved his life.” Will bit his lips. “He said ‘feed me to the lords’ before he raised his gun at his head. I didn’t want him to have what he wanted. At least he’s not going to have it for a long while.” Death was too merciful for a monster like him.

“It feels good to punish bad people.” Hannibal’s voice mirror his. “We build amphitheaters for the Royals, saying it is for showing our gratitude to them and satisfying their hunger, but it is mainly for punishing those who break our laws by sending them to the most horrific places on Earth.”

“It’s apparently not working.” Will sighed and shook his head. “I didn't come here for the case.”

Despite being curious, Hannibal waited for him to elaborate.

He fidgeted, staring at Hannibal’s hand resting on the couch. “Can I, can I hold your hand?”

“You can touch me anytime you want.” Hannibal turned his palm up.

Will took off his glove and reached out. He touched Hannibal’s hand and retreated quickly, like a cat testing a bathtub full of water. 

Hannibal did not move until he had enough confidence to place his hand down. Hannibal held his hand tenderly.

“I…” Will took a breath. “I got stabbed when I worked for the homicide.” He decided to say whatever came into this mind. “Here, on my right shoulder. It’s an ugly scar.”

Hannibal parted his lips, likely to say nothing would affect Will’s beauty, but Will did not let him. 

“My head got bumped when I was a child, and the hair there never grows back. I try to keep my house clean but the entropy and my dogs don’t let me.” He chuckled. “My socks always go missing. I talk to my dogs all the time. Sometimes I’m curious and I’ll taste the dog food and dog treats. I like collecting bugs. I like fixing boat engines. I mostly eat take outs and junk food. I wipe my hands on my clothes. I’m messy. I don’t comb my hair some days. I scream, I sweat, I drool, I toss and turn when I sleep. And the list goes on and on.”

He looked at Hannibal shyly. “Do you still want to be with me after hearing all this?”

Hannibal smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I will spend hours in my kitchen to prepare a dish. I listen to classical music when I cook and dine. I will stay in my study the whole afternoon reading or drawing or playing music. I play the harpsichord and theremin. I like collecting arts. Sometimes I don’t speak when I am deep in my thoughts. I clean my house every week. I wake up early even on holidays. I buy clothes every season. I scrub my hands the way a surgeon would do when I am not paying attention.”

Will laughed. It did not sound bad at all.

Hannibal stroked his face. “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” 

“Where?” Will tried not to sound too eager, but he clearly failed.

Hannibal pat the back of his hand. “At my house. I will cook for you. What kind of dishes do you want to eat?”

“It would be rude if I demanded anything from you.”

“Do you have any food allergies?” Hannibal asked. “And do you have anything you are particularly not fond of?”

Will shook his head. He hated carrots. “I’ll eat anything you make.”

“There must be something you like.” Hannibal leaned and looked at him closely. “Pork? Beef? Chicken? Duck?”

Will raised his brows and his voice. “Are you cold-reading me?”

“I am merely looking at you.”

Would it be too late to realize Hannibal was an expert at lying without a blink?

“I like seafood,” Will spluttered.

Hannibal smiled triumphantly. 

“And should I bring anything?” Will asked.

“Only yourself.”

Though Will had already planned to buy a bottle of wine.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

  
  
Hannibal lived in a fucking mansion.

Will grunted and turned his head back. He stared at the wine bottle lying next to his seat and the car wheel and the dashboard. He could turn around and leave. He could call Hannibal and tell him he was suddenly sick, but he did not want to hear the disappointment in Hannibal’s voice.

Sighing, Will killed the engine and got out of his car with the wine bottle, marching to the grand house.

The intimidating door stopped him. He paced and fidgeted with the bottle. His legs kept trying to drag him back home.

He looked at his clothes to make sure there was no dog hairs sticking to him. He had picked a dark-red shirt, a blazer, and a pair of slack, and he had combed his hair into a stylish look. He did not shave however, not fond of looking too young.

He drew a breath and turned to face the door. He rang the doorbell. Hannibal opened the door within seconds as if he had been staying behind it to wait for his arrival.

Hannibal was wearing a white shirt and an apron. His sleeves had been rolled up, revealing a pair of strong arms. 

Will blushed even before Hannibal welcomed him with an alluring smile.

“This is for you.” He quickly pushed the bottle into Hannibal’s hands as if it was burning hot.

“I told you there was no need to bring anything,” Hannibal said though he looked at it with an appreciative smile.

“But I want to,” Will mumbled.

Hannibal gazed at him. “You look beautiful today.”

Will laughed to hide his embarrassment. “Only today?”

“Everyday.” Hannibal stepped aside. “Please come in.”

Hannibal helped Will to hang his blazer and led him inside the house. 

The kitchen was vast but comparatively plain. Will glanced at the door of the fridge, finding no magnets on it, although he would be shocked if he had found one there. 

Hannibal opened the wine bottle and took a sniff before pouring them two glasses.

“Can I help you to prepare the food?” Will asked as Hannibal went behind the island counter. “I don't cook often, but I still know how to chop vegetables and stir eggs”

“You are my guest, Will,” Hannibal said. “Take a seat. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Afraid that I will learn your secret recipes and become a better chef than you or afraid that I will explode your kitchen?” Will walked to the corner and sat on the armchair. 

“Please do not underestimate your ability.”

Will raised his brows.

Giving Will a smirk, Hannibal washed and wiped his hands to continue his work. “You said you can sense emotion traces and death. I am curious, would you sense them on food?”

“The fear of animals, you mean.” Will shook his head. “I am not eating the meat when it is still warm and bleeding. Usually the meat will be frozen, thawed, seasoned, cooked or stewed or fried with nothing left.”

“I have a keen sense of smell, but not as great as yours,” Hannibal said. “I was aware one of my teachers had stomach cancer even before he was.”

Will widened his eyes. “That’s not as great as mine?”

Hannibal gave him a humble smile. “It brings me inconvenience sometimes. No matter how much sauce or herbs were added, I could still taste the fear of the animals if they had been killed brutally.”

Will returned an understanding look. “How does fear taste like?”

“Acidic, like a note of citrus.”

Will blinked. “Same to me.”

“Bee can see ultraviolet light and dogs can hear ultrasounds, both are what a human body could not perceive. Perhaps there is no such difference between our normal senses and the psychic senses.”

“Except the latter one is something science couldn’t explain.”

“Only not yet.” Hannibal smiled mysteriously and placed a frying pan on the stove. The smell of butter drifted in the air.

“Have you thought of opening a restaurant?” Will sipped his wine.

“Cooking is only a passion of mine. I am afraid I would not enjoy it as much as I do now if I turned it into a business.”

Will hummed. “I fish,” he said, letting himself sink further into the chair. “When the weather is good I would go to a nearby river to fly fish.”

Hannibal added the scallops into the pan and cast him an interested gaze. It seemed everything coming out from Will’s mouth were interesting to him.

Will smiled to himself. “It is not necessary live baits. All you need is a pair of skillful hands. You could use shell and feathers to make insect-like baits and throw them into water the way a drowning bug would struggle. You’d trick the predatory instinct of the fish.”

“Irresistible,” Hannibal said, his gaze fixated on Will, as if this word was spoken only because of him.

  
The dining table was adorned with deep-purple grapes, dark-red apples, and pomegranates spilling out from a horn-shaped basket like shiny rubies and tanzanites. 

A wall of herbs stood on the left side of the room, full of cultivated herbs like mints, rosemaries, corianders, thymes, and many more Will could not put a name to. Some of them emitted a faint, sweet tinge of musk. Their peculiar appearances made Will doubt they were for seasoning.

On the other side of the room, fire cracked in the fireplace which was decorated with ram horns. An oil painting hung above it. 

Will finally had time to study the painting after he set the table and settled down. It depicted a naked woman lying on her back with only a white cloth draped over her waist, her legs spread open at a swan—oh. Oh.

Will looked down quickly. Heat raised from his neck to his cheeks. 

What was that? Why, why would Hannibal have a painting like this in his dining room?

Footsteps approached him. Will nearly jumped out of his seat. He took his glass to gulp down a mouthful of wine to calm himself, pretending he was busy drinking it instead of looking around and staring at the painting.

Hannibal entered the room with a graceful gait. He served Will first, whispering the dish name to Will’s ear before setting his own plate down opposite to Will. 

He said while helping Will to refill the glass, “You looked flushed. Is the room too warm?”

Will shook his head. “Must be the alcohol.”

“Can’t hold your liquor?”

Will gave a hum. It would be better to let him think that.

He grabbed his silverware as Hannibal did, taking a small slice of a scallop into his mouth. Rich flavour of lemon, garlic, parsley, and the sweetness of the scallop exploded on his palates. He smiled and raised his head, but Hannibal’s intent gaze on him made him looked away.

“You are so shy, Will.” Hannibal smiled. “Although I must admit that you look adorable in your shyness, I hope you can be more comfortable around me. I would not laugh at anything you say or do.”

Will nodded half-heartedly. He shifted on his chair. He tried to focus on the dish, but his growing curiosity could not wait any longer after they took another bite.

“What’s that painting behind you?” He forced himself to ask in a neutral voice.

Hannibal turned his head around and glanced at the painting. A glint of mischief flashed in his eyes. 

“Leda and the Swan,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “Are you familiar with Greek mythology?”

Will searched around the corners of his mind, finding blurred fragments of history classes and books. 

“I know Zeus,” he said. “He was the king of the...Olympians? And he punished someone for giving fire to the mortals.”

Hannibal nodded. “Zeus had a wife, a wrathful goddess who liked to punish her husband’s lovers and illegitimate offspring.”

“Her name was Leda?”

“Hera,” Hannibal said. “Leda was one of Zeus’s lover. He seduced her while disguising himself in a form of swan.”

Will took a glimpse at the painting. Ok. It was like the Royal having human consorts then. 

Many Royal did so, like the Eagle who had gotten himself a new consort after the death of his last one five years ago. The media treated it like a huge reality show. A lot of people craved to have that honour, though the Royal usually chose humans as their partners. Eventually the Eagle picked a young, beautiful man, who had appeared on TV just a while ago, looking sane and healthy, smiling in bliss.

Will was not sure if the Royal did have genuine feelings to their consorts, or those “sacred marriages” were only a tool to colonize the Earth.

He bit his lip. “But why would you… I expected you would hang a painting of the real gods.” Or something less erotic.

“You don’t see the deities in mythology as gods?” Hannibal studied Will. “What is your definition of ‘god’? Something omnipotent? Something that would watch us in the sky or in the cosmos? Or something who would reward those who worshipped it and punish those who did something it did not approve?”

Will shrugged, slicing another scallop. “They are fictional. They were gods only because people worshipped them.”

“In a similar way, the Great Old Ones are gods only because people worship them.”

Will glanced up at Hannibal’s smirk. He smiled back, teasing him, “Are you a Restorationist, Doctor Lecter?”

“Like you, my dear Will, I am neither a worshiper nor a Restorationist,” Hannibal said, amused. “I simply like questioning the norm, the humanity, and the world. Wouldn’t it be interesting to imagine if one day ants began to worship us for our power and intelligence they could never acquire, would it make us gods?”

Will sipped his wine, savouring the meaning behind those words. “We wouldn’t care if they would worship us. They are insignificant. We could wipe out their existence without effort, only we didn’t bother to do so.” He licked his lips. “They would be arrogant, calling us gods on their own and demanding blessing from us. Though it would be amusing to watch them kill each other in our names.”

“Some gods are not that indifferent to humans,” Hannibal said. “They are sympathetic even. They would respond when called upon.” 

“Kind of reminded me of the god Hobbs worshipped.” Will finished the last bite of his entrée. “I wonder if they are the same god who left the gift on the field. If that was a god.”

Hannibal dabbed his lips with his napkin. “You said it felt like a gift for you. Does it seem to you it was for the Shrike now?”

“I didn’t say that.” Will huffed. “Maybe it was a test. Maybe they wanted to lead us to the Shrike to see if he could pass the test. Gods’ minds are inscrutable.” He scratched his nape and let out a dry laugh. “We should be talking about ourselves instead of the cases. Unless this is not...a date?”

“No need to worry, Will. This is only the entrée.”

The main course was grilled salmon in garlic lime butter. Will could barely wait for Hannibal to sit down to have a taste.

“When did you decide to be a great chef, Hannibal?” Will asked, almost wanting to lick the sauce on his fork.

Hannibal smiled at his subtle compliment. “When I was young.”

“Most of the young people go shopping, playing games, hanging out with friends, and you decided to do cooking. Where do you come from?” Will sneered, though Hannibal gave him a serious response.

“Lithuania. Though I did not spend many years there. I went to Paris and Florence, and I came here as I accepted the internship offer from Johns Hopkins.”

Will looked up, picturing Hannibal in a white coat in his mind. The man looked perfect in any clothes.

“Why did you stop being a surgeon?” Will asked.

“I worked at the ER. I had seen too many deaths.” Hannibal lowered his lashes as he took a morsel of the salmon. Will could not stop imaging how he would look like when holding a scalpel to slice people open with his elegant hands.

Will cleared his throat. “I was born in Louisiana,” he said. “My father fixed boats. We moved a lot.”

“Always the new boy at school, always the stranger.”

“Yeah. And my ASD did not help at all.” Will watched his index finger tapping his knife. “I remember I hated the story-telling time in kindergarten because none of the stories made sense.” He laughed. “There was a story about a child playing with a beach ball outside the garden and breaking a window of his house. I looked at the picture, staring at the crying boy and the broken window, and I said, ‘that’s absolutely impossible for a plastic ball to break a window, and even if it did, how come the glass pieces were outside the house?’”

“You showed a great potential to be a detective when you were young.”

Will shrugged. “No one appreciated it.”

“Haven’t you thought of using your powers to impress your friends?”

“Like reading their palms and telling them they are going to die one day?” Will huffed and took a sip of wine. “I didn’t know I was a psychic back then. They found I am on the spectrum and have too many mirror neurons, and everyone thought that was all—what else could be worse than that.”

Hannibal shook his head at his last sentence. “Sensing emotion traces is similar to empathy, which was likely why they missed it.”

“They said perhaps it was a mild form of synesthesia but quickly dismissed it as I won’t see colours when listening to music or other things. And I always thought everyone could sense the traces and I was the only one couldn't handle it. So I didn’t put much thought into it.”

“When did you find out you were a psychic?”

“Years later. Really late in my life. After I had become an officer. 

“It was a hit-and-run. Happened at night. No witnesses. The neighbour called us as soon as he heard it happen. The guy who got hit was unconscious already. I tried to check him, and I saw a clear image of the car. My boss suspected I have some psychic powers, so she sent me to have a proper test.

“They asked me to lift objects using my mind, guess the numbers on the cards in the adjacent rooms, predict what would happen next… a lot of powers I wish I could have.”

“You could if you spent some time to practicing,” Hannibal said.

Will frowned. “It’s not like riding bicycles or playing piano.”

“We have powerful minds, Will. You only have to believe.”

Will snorted at Hannibal’s enigmatic tones. “You said you’re not a worshipper, and now you are trying to persuade me to believe some nonsense you say.”

Hannibal hushed him, raising his knife. “Believing something is true is not equal to worshipping it. You believe science is true, but you do not worship it.”

Will bit the tips of his fork. “Believing something blindly is similar to worshipping. Like those pseudoscience. Some cults believe the pineal gland is our inner eye so they crack people’s skulls to collect the glands and transplant them into other people’s brains.”

Hannibal took a mouthful of the meat. “What do you think the inner eye is?”

“Not a real part of our brains,” Will said. They had scanned many psychics’ brains and found nothing special. “Perhaps it’s like our consciousness, a combination of certain electric pulses.”

“The world is also the creation of these pulses in your head?”

“If that was true, why didn't my brain give me a world ruled by dogs?” 

Hannibal chuckled and Will grinned.

  
When Will was about to leave, Hannibal packed two pieces of fruit tart into a tupperware for Will.

“Thanks.” Will smiled sheepishly. He swore he had not shown too much interest in dessert, yet Hannibal had noticed he had a sweet tooth. He clung to the container. “That will be my breakfast tomorrow.”

Hannibal smiled, his gaze lingering on Will’s lips, but he was too polite to ask. “Let me walk you to your car.”

They walked slowly to Will’s car, holding hands.

Will asked after they looked at each other for a long while, “You are not going to accompany me home, right?”

“If you allow me to,” Hannibal said.

Will had no idea if he was joking or not. “It...it was a wonderful night. Thanks for inviting me over.”

Hannibal took a step closer to Will. “Would you like to have dinner with me again?”

Hannibal’s gaze fell onto Will’s lips again.

Will took a breath. Perhaps it was his turn to be the bold one. 

He leaned in to press their chests together and gave Hannibal a brief kiss.

It was an innocent peck, but it was so hot that Will felt like he had kissed a flame. He retreated quickly, mumbled a goodnight, and fled to his car.

  
After another dinner and a lunch, Will invited Hannibal to his house on the weekend.

He spent half of the day cleaning the kitchen, dining room, and living room. When he was emptying his bookshelf, the purring of a car engine broke the silence of the woods. His pack rushed to the door, sniffing the air curiously.

Will had none of their ease. 

He shove the books on his hands back to the shelf, but there were more scattered on the floor along with paper, magazines, and dog toys. There was no time for him to pick them up.

He paced and scratched his hair, panicking. It was too messy. Messier than before he had started cleaning. How could he let Hannibal see this?

The car door opened and shut. 

Will jumped. He shove away the things on his way to the door with his feet and nearly tripped by a chew toy. He opened the door and closed it quickly after the dogs scurried out. They surrounded Hannibal who stopped abruptly and raised his hands and his bag as if surrendering to the canine officers.

Will chuckled. “Don’t worry, they won’t bite you. They’re just sniffing you out. You can pet them.” He looked down at Winston who stood by his side loyally. He bent to scratched the mutt’s chin. “See, you can scratch their cheeks or chins or pet their neck. Just don’t put your hands over their heads, it might scare them.”

Hannibal took off his gloves and let the dogs sniff his knuckles. He tried to pet one but they all nudged against each other to fight for his attention and almost knocked him down.

Will laughed. That was so silly. 

Hannibal threw him a helpless look.

Will widened his smirk. “So, let me introduce my family. From your left to right: Max, Jack, Harley, Ellie, Buster, and Zoe. And this is Winston.” He patted he mutt’s back. “He’s the newest member of my pack.”

“I suppose I have passed the test?” Hannibal asked.

“Yeah. They’ve approved our marriage.” Will laughed and whistled to call the dogs back. He turned to open the door, then remembered the chaos inside his house. “Wait, I’m still cleaning the house. It’s a mess inside. You wouldn’t want to see it.”

“I should be the one apologizing. I came early. I wanted to see you sooner.”

Will looked at the floor and let Hannibal in. 

“See, it’s messy and dirty.”

Hannibal shook his head. “It is a lovely home.”

Will rocked back and forth. “What have you brought?” He pointed at Hannibal’s bag.

“Some vegetables and steaks.” Hannibal let him peek at the ingredients. “I have made gâteau opéra and brought a few pieces.”

“I don’t know what is that but it sounds delicious.” Will giggled. “Let me take it into the kitchen. It’s too early for dinner, right? And would you like to have something to drink? Wait, it’s also too early for alcohol. Maybe, maybe water?”

“It is alright, Will.” Hannibal reached out.

Will took Hannibal’s hand hesitantly. The familiar warmth stabled his heart. He gave Hannibal a shy smile before he took the bag into the kitchen and placed the meat and dessert into the fridge. When he returned, Hannibal was standing at his workbench and admiring his baits.

“These are for fly-fishing?”

“Right.” Will picked up a doll toy and threw it at one of the dog beds secretly. “You want to come with me next time when I go fishing?”

Hannibal turned to look at him. “If you let me sketch you.”

“I am not going to get naked for arts.” Will eyed Hannibal suspiciously.

“How about for me?” Hannibal smirked at Will’s blush. He glanced at the bed near the window. “You sleep here.” 

“I like to stay with my dogs,” Will said. “They always try to look for me if I sleep upstairs. Don’t want them to run on the stairs too much.” Though he believed it would change soon if he wanted to have some privacy with Hannibal.

“You are a thoughtful parent.”

“That’s what I always tell them.”

They smiled at each other.

Hannibal helped him to tidy his bookshelf despite his protests.

One of the hindrances of organizing books was that you would naturally stop to read and read for hours until you finally remembered your original plan. They came across a similar problem within minutes. Hannibal asked Will about a book of insects. He listened intently and encouraged Will to talk more, which inspired Will to talk about bugs, dinosaurs, and marine mammals till Will’s back and butt hurt because he sat on the floor for too long.

“We’re not going to finish tidying if we continue like this.” Will stood and stretched, smiling at having a great audience. “Let’s go for a walk after we’re done here?” 

He got a few tennis balls before they went out with the dogs at dusk. They walked through the field covered with thin layers of snow and brownish grasses. 

Will threw the tennis balls. The dogs returned with them quickly with wagging tails. He praised and pet the dogs one by one before throwing the balls again, yelling and clasping to encourage his pack to fetch them back faster. After a few rounds Will noticed Hannibal’s gaze on him. He straightened himself instantly. 

“Sorry.”

“Why would you apologize?” Hannibal smiled. The golden ray of the dusk softened his features. His eyes glimmered with warmth.

Will licked his lips, looking at Hannibal shyly. 

“Can I hold you in my arms, Will?”

Will mouthed a silent yes. Hannibal stepped forth till their chests were touching. Will leaned his forehead on Hannibal's shoulder. The strong arms enveloped him gently like a warm breeze.

  
Dinner that night was ‘relatively simple’ as Hannibal said when politely asking Will to leave it to him. Will just feed the dogs and watched Hannibal cook.

When it was ready, Will led Hannibal into his tiny dining room. He had no silver plates or candle holders, so he had made an ugly centerpiece with some dry flowers, leaves, and acorns he had found outside.

“It is a traditional way to decorate your dining table,” Hannibal said appreciatively. “Centerpiece can be traced back to the ancient Roman and Greek, when people used seasonal flora and fruits as decoration.”

Will had a long list of things to collect from the woods now. 

They washed the dishes together after their meal and they returned to the living room. Will let the dogs out and poured two glasses of whiskey for Hannibal and himself. 

“Would they be fine to be alone outside?” Hannibal asked when Will sat beside him on the sofa.

“They will be barking and scratching the door soon,” Will said. “They only dare to leave the house with me.” 

He sipped the alcohol. Fire cracked faintly. The dog barks seemed far away. He shifted slightly. “Do you want to watch TV? Wait, do you watch TV?”

“I do.” Hannibal sounded offended.

Will laughed. “You behave like a nobleman from hundreds years ago. You talk formally and you dress formally. You would pull the doors or chairs for me. You even ask me first every time you wanted to kiss me.”

“I don’t want to do anything against your will.” Hannibal raised his hand to Will’s cheek.

Hannibal’s touch always felt overwhelming at first, as if Will was stepping into a steaming shower with his limbs cold and numb. It felt so hot that he wanted to flinch away, but when the heat warmed his body, he would want to stay in it forever. 

Will had tried to date a few people, and none of them had given him this experience. They had touched him because they only wanted to have sex with him;there was no much feelings behind the touching. Sex was too intimate for Will. He did not want to do it with someone who had no feeling for him. He had been afraid Hannibal was like those people. How wrong he was.

“You can kiss me anytime you want.” Will hid his gaze behind his lashes.

Hannibal leaned closer, his breath carrying the scents of alcohol and chocolate. Will closed his eyes with a smile. The kiss sparkled on his lips. He shuddered and parted his lips. 

They brushed their lips against each other. The act itself was still chaste, but it lit a flame in Will’s body. He edged closer and wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders when Hannibal sucked his bottom lip. He reciprocated and licked back. Hannibal caught his tongue and got tangled with him. Heat burned in his lower stomach. Hannibal’s hand ran through his hair and brought him into a deeper kiss, taking his breath away instantly.

He clutched at Hannibal’s lapels, letting out a weak noise. Hannibal released him and looked at him closely. 

“Was it too much?” Hannibal asked.

Will smiled. “It was great.”

Hannibal traced the curve of Will’s jaw and neck then stopped at his collar. “May I?” He whispered, his eyes dark but soft, and his voice lighter than the cracking of fire.

Will nodded. Goosebumps spread across his skin as the lithe fingers unbuttoned his shirt slowly. It fell from his shoulders to his arms. He moved slightly to drop it onto the floor, his eyes not leaving Hannibal’s.

Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s right collarbone. It scorched Will’s skin as if it would leave an angry mark there. Will wanted Hannibal to mark every inch of his body.

Hannibal’s hand glided to Will’s shoulder, creasing the scar there with his thumb.

Will tasted something sour and spicy, something his dogs would show when he was paying too much attention to any one of them. Was Hannibal… Why would Hannibal be jealous of that?

Hannibal placed a soft kiss there and left more over Will’s collarbones and chest. All his touches remained innocent, but Will trembled when Hannibal’s palms brushed over his nipples which instantly hardened and his cock ached. 

Hannibal’s lips on Will’s neck turned into a smile. With such a sensitive nose which could allow him to smell cancer, he must have already smelled Will's urge.

“May I?” He rested his hands on Will’s belt.

Will swallowed hard, his throat dry and burning. “Let’s go to bed.”

He was about to stand but Hannibal carried him up in bridal style and strode to his bed, laying him on the center of the bed sheet. He tensed as the man hovered over him. Hannibal lied beside him instead, stroking his hair to soothe him.

“It won’t happen anything that you don’t want.”

Will was nervous, yes, but he wanted it.

“I want to see you,” he said.

Hannibal sat up to undo the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing his chest covered in silver hair. Will stared at it without blinking. Hannibal’s shirt slid off and showed him the broad shoulders and muscular arms of the man. He reached out before Hannibal lied back, but he hesitated in mid-air.

“You can touch anywhere you want.” Hannibal smiled. He held Will’s hand and guided it to his chest.

Will winced a bit at the heat but relaxed quickly. He fondled Hannibal's chest. He had expected Hannibal would shave his body hair, but he was glad he was wrong. Hannibal looked deadly hot with his chest hair.

Will’s cock throbbed in his boxers. He wriggled uncomfortably.

“You...you can take off my pants,” he mumbled.

Hannibal rewarded him with a kiss and unbuckled his belt. The sound of the zipper made him close his eyes tight. His pants and his boxers slid away from his legs. Having nothing to protect his body, he covered his face with his arms and tried to hide himself.

“You are beautiful, Will.” Hannibal stroked his hair and kissed his wrist.

Will moved his arm away a bit and peeked over it. “I’ve never...I’ve never done this with anyone.”

“I am surprised and grateful that you trust me to this extend,” Hannibal said, his eyes and his hands staying on Will’s upper body, but Will did not want them to stop there.

“Take off yours too.”

Hannibal undressed himself. He slowly slid his boxers down, showing his uncut and thick cock. 

Will’s breath hitched. Unable to tear his eyes off, he reached out an unsteady hand and placed it on Hannibal’s hip. He had no idea where to start. 

His quickening heartbeat sounded louder and louder in his ears as he reached Hannibal’s thigh. A caress on his burning cheek encouraged him to venture closer. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and stroked the bulbous head curiously. Hannibal swelled harder in his palm. His own cock ached in response. 

Hannibal kissed him with a heavy huff. “May I touch you?”

Will withdrew and nodded eagerly. Hannibal stroked along his flank to his inner thighs. He closed his eyes quickly, breathing through his parted lips. Hannibal touched his balls and palmed them lightly. He trembled under the teasing, hiding his face on Hannibal’s chest when fingers ran along his shaft and rubbed his leaking head. 

Hannibal grabbed him firmly, freeing a moan from his throat. He tried to thrust, but the hand was gone. He looked up, confused and scared. Hannibal calmed him with a passionate kiss.

He kissed back, letting Hannibal’s tongue get in and entangle with his. Hannibal pushed his shoulder gently and rolled him onto his back. The firm torso pressed against him. Their desires mingled and heated up ferociously. 

Light-headed, Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist and rocked his hips instinctively. Hannibal ground against him. He whined, legs weak in sudden pleasure. Hannibal stroked his nipples and their cocks, making him leak profusely.

“I can’t, I can’t…”

“Come for me, Will.” 

Hannibal squeezed harder. Will arched and came in his hand. He released Will and kissed him softly.

Will wanted to reciprocate but he could only pant, dizzy. Hannibal masturbated himself, thrusting into his own hand. His precum dribbled along his shaft and mixed with Will’s cum. Will wanted to look away, but was transfixed by the lascivious sight.

Hannibal came shortly after, his hand covered in their cum.

“There are tissues…”

Before Will could finished, Hannibal raised his hand to his own mouth and sucked his fingers loudly.

Will’s gaze fled quickly. He tried to bury his face onto his pillow. Hannibal came closer, resting a hand on the side of his bottom. He grabbed Hannibal’s hand and got up quickly, dragging the blanket over his lower body. 

“I, I don’t think I can do it tonight.”

A slight surprise swept through his skin.

Hannibal smiled. “I only wanted to ask if you want to take a shower.”

Will twisted the corner of the blanket. “With you?”

“If you so desired.” Hannibal kissed his cheek. “Go there first. I will bring you clothes and let the dogs in.”

Will got out of the bed and stepped into the shower. The water was warm enough, but not as welcoming as Hannibal’s body.

Will smiled giddily while washing the cum off his stomach. He turned around as the bathroom door whirled open. Hannibal joined him under the cascading water, caressing his face and his flanks.

“How did you feel?”

Will smiled. “Do we need to talk about it?”

Hannibal kissed him. “I want to be sure that you enjoyed it and you want to be intimate with me again.”

Will leaned on Hannibal’s chest. “I’d love to.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

  
  
The world was ready to welcome the greatest festival of the year. Snow had covered the land. People were happily killed. 

Will sprinted to the porch and rang the doorbell, patting snowflakes off his shoulders. Hannibal opened the door promptly. Will quirked his brows at Hannibal’s apron.

“What are you making? It’s still afternoon.” Will escaped into the warm foyer, shaking his jacket off like a wet dog.

“Gingerbread.” Hannibal kissed Will, combing Will’s curls with his fingers. The tender touch widened Will’s smile.

“You celebrate Winter Solstice?” Will glanced around, his gaze caught by a tall pine adorned with animal horns and fortunately, nothing vulgar or grotesque.

“Gingerbread is not solely for the festival, though, indeed, I am preparing for the Winter Solstice.” Hannibal held Will’s hand and led him into the house. “It is not your family tradition to celebrate Winter Solstice, Will?”

“I only buy presents for my dogs. Treats and new toys.” Will shrugged. “I see no reason to celebrate it.”

“You can celebrate you have survived another year in this cruel world.”

“What’s birthday for then?” Will huffed. “Thousands of people die in the festival every year.”

“Their death could make the world a better place,” Hannibal said as they stepped into the kitchen. “We could push humanity to evolve into a better species by killing those bad and mindless.”

Will blinked, finding himself intrigued by this appalling idea. 

“When I was a kid, I always worried we were going to be the last generation of humans, and I would be locked in a zoo for being the last _homo sapiens_ on Earth,” he said, following Hannibal to the island where were displaying mixing bowls, baking trays covered with parchment paper, a rolling pin, and a dark-brown dough.

Hannibal dusted his hands and the pin with flour and began rolling the dough.

Eyes glued to the muscles of Hannibal’s arms, Will almost missed what Hannibal was asking—“You have never thought of accepting the blessing from the church?”

“I would rather die.” Will laughed. “You have thought of mutating yourself?” 

It would be a shame if Hannibal had any part of his body changed. But would he still loved Hannibal even if Hannibal grew out tentacles one day? No doubt he would.

Hannibal shook his head. “I enjoy living my life as a human being.” He put away the rolling pin. Will’s eyes lit up as he took out some cookies cutters from a bowl.

“Let me help you.” Will rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands quickly. His excitement made Hannibal chuckle. He blushed slightly. “I always want to make some cookies but never have a chance.”

“Your parents never make gingerbread for winter?”

“We didn’t celebrate it. Barely had money for presents.” Will went to Hannibal’s side. “I don’t know if my mother would have baked something. She left when I was very young. I never knew her.”

He looked at the cookies cutters. They were in the shapes of a human, a godkin (humanoid except having tentacles instead of a round head), a star, a flower, and a diamond. No dogs.

He picked the human one, leaving the rest to Hannibal. “How about your parents?”

“I don’t have parents,” Hannibal said, rolling another loaf of dough. “I had a sister. She was beautiful and lovely. We were inseparable, but she left the world when we were both young. ”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It happened many years ago,” Hannibal said softly. “Do you have siblings, Will?”

“No and I don’t want one, thank you.” Will laughed and pressed his cookie cutter onto the dough, starting from the top-left corner. “So you are preparing for a yule party? Cakes and eggnog and puddings?”

“Would you be my plus-one?”

Will’s eyes widened. “I, I’m not a good company.”

Hannibal leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I enjoy your company.”

Will turned his face away, fumbling with the cutter. “I’m not going to attend any social meetings even if you kiss me hundreds of times.”

“Even if there is only two of us?”

Will looked up. Hannibal was not saying this to tease him.

“You’re not going to invite your rich friends to have a ball or something?”

Hannibal shook his head. “This would be our first Winter Solstice together. I only want to be with you.”

It got a wide smile on Will’s face.

  
Acidic fear and decayed reek had flooded the dining room where flies swarmed and worms hatched on the darkened meat. A family dinner.

Will stood at the head of the table. The guests all had their faces buried on their plates stained dark-red, except the women who looked at him with a pair of milky eyes. She was the last.

Will breathed in the remaining musk left by the intruders. He took off his surgical glove and reached out his rigid hand to the woman. 

Gunpowder. Gunshot sounds merging into one. A dark hole pointed at him. 

Sharp pain exploded behind his eye and startled him back. He stumbled backwards, touching his forehead and his face with his wrist to make sure everything on him was still intact.

“Jack.” He called with an unfamiliar taste in his mouth, which lingered for minutes as the forensic team processed the scene.

“What did you see?” Jack asked as Will stepped aside to study the blood-stained photos. 

“I sensed eldritch magic, impure,” Will said. “Kins.”

“How many?”

Will closed his eyes, taking the cold air in. It was usually hard to tell the difference. Fortunately, this time the intruders had stayed here long enough and their scents had distinct levels of impurity.

“I would say at least three,” he said. “One of which is a strong kin, and one quite weak. They weren’t coming for money. It was personal. You have any information about the family?”

“Karen and Roger Turner,” Jack pointed at the adults. “Childhood sweethearts. Owned a successful real estate business. Pillars of the community. Three children.”

Will glanced at the children. “Minus one. Got selected as a tribute?”

“A son, Jesse, disappeared last year. Local police did not investigate. Either he ran away, got abducted, or died.”

“Or all.” Will twisted his lips. He turned back to the photos. The family portraits showed him incongruent smiles, which reminded him of his own. 

Jack asked the team: “Any signs of forced entry?”

“Perimeter is clean of scoring and rupture,” Beverly said. “No broken windows or torn screens. It’s all sealed up tight.”

“They probably rang the doorbell.” Jack shook his head.

“I’ve got bullet holes on the upper sections of the wall and ceiling.” Beverly gestured.

Brian moved to the head of the table, his tentacles waving above it as if imitating the trajectory. “The shooter was firing from low to high, probably crouched.”

Will stared at a picture of the missing boy playing with a stuffed octopus. His mother by his side looked at him sweetly. 

Flies buzzed in Will’s ears.

Will bit his lips. “How long since Jesse was abducted?”

“Just over a year,” Jack said.

“He was still a human when he disappeared?”

“What do you mean?” Jack’s voice rose at the implication in his words.

Will looked at the woman’s corpse, staring at the back of her head. “I sensed forgiveness from Mrs. Turner.”

“What kind of victim forgives her killer at the moment of her death?”

Will flexed his hands, reluctant to say, “A mother.”

  
They had found Jesse’s shoe print, two unknown shoe prints, and a set of inhuman foot prints, all in children sizes.

A clear set of fingerprints brought them to a large house in Reston, Virginia. 

Brisk music for Winter Solstice haunted the living room. A large pine tree decorated with glittering tinsels, baubles, animal eyes and bones stood proudly near the fireplace, encircled by dozens of present boxes. Most of the gifts had been hastily opened. Ribbons and tattered gift wrap covered the corpses of the family. 

Will lowered his hand from his nose. The air had a weak, yet pure musk.

  
Will sat on an empty autopsy table. The team were busy around the corpses. His gaze fixed at Mrs. Frist only. 

“Mr. Frist and the children were killed first,” Jack said. “Mrs. Frist was saved for last. Same as the Turner’s.”

“Not exactly the same,” Will said. “The boys didn’t stay. Something went wrong.”

Beverly suggested: “Not a single present under the tree for Mrs. Frist.”

Will hid a smile. “Took her presents, took her motherhood.” 

Sometimes he wondered if his mother had been dead as well, if she had ended up in the gods’ bellies or been lucky enough to be cremated or buried.

The team inspected the bullet wounds on Mrs. Frist’s head as Will listened to them half-heartedly. She had gotten two shots. The first one from her child, and the lethal one from another gun.

“Who was the additional corpse in the fireplace?” Jack peeled up the clothing covering a charred body. 

It curved like a fetus of some sort of marine creatures, small and fragile, humanoid but with a large fish mouth spread wide over half of its face and a long reptile tail protruding from its back. It smelled citrus, coal, and impure musk. 

Will looked away, rocking back and forth. “I’d say Connor Frist. He had been prepped to shoot his mother, but not watch her suffer.”

Jack glanced at him. “Connor couldn't put his panic back in the bottle. So he was shot too.”

Will rubbed his eyebrows. “I smelled a half-blood in the house. A weak one.” He looked at the mother’s wounds. “We are likely looking for a women who desperately wants to be a mother. She’s probably infertile. She forces the kids to mutate into godkins to make them look like her children. Though it’s clearly not enough. She wants them to love her, to kill their former families for her. Connor couldn’t do this, so she disowned him.”

He looked back at the burnt corpses of the child. His old anger resonating with the scene stung his eyes. 

  
A smile surfaced on Will’s face as he found the Bentley in front of his house. He hopped out of his car, as happy as the dog barks coming from the house where he found Hannibal sitting in an armchair and feeding his dogs with homemade sausage. Only Winston perked up and trotted to him as he entered the living room.

“Bribing my dogs, I see.” He ruffled Winston’s fur, silently praising the mutt’s loyalty.

“I am helping you to train them,” Hannibal said, passing through the pestering pack with his usual elegance. “You are early today.”

“Tired.” Will took off his jacket and gloves and slumped on the sofa.

Hannibal poured him a glass of warm water and sat beside him. 

“We’ve a new case this week.” Will took a gulp. “Kids missing for months then returning to kill their families.”

“Freddie Lounds called them the Blood Brothers.”

Will groaned at the name. 

“We call them the Lost Boys,” he said. “They were human before they disappeared and now they have been turned into kins.”

“It is unlikely for children to acquire mutagens in both legal and illegal ways.”

Will told Hannibal about the burnt child and his deduction about the half-blood mother. “She’s like Garret Jacob Hobbs, using ‘love’ as an excuse to justify her sick acts. That so called ‘love’ could turned into betrayal within a second.”

“They are only exceptions,” Hannibal said. “You also saw a mother forgiving her child when he was about to kill her.”

Will stood to put the cup back into the kitchen. “I wouldn’t expect every parent in this world to do that.”

Hannibal followed him. “What is your expectation to a parent?”

Will drew a breath, tapping the countertop. “I wouldn't ask for too much. At least they should not abandon their children.”

Hannibal said after a pause. “You see yourself in the abandoned boy.”

“No. I’m only glad that my mother isn’t a serial killer.”

Hannibal held Will’s hands. Will sighed, letting himself fall into the lulling embrace.

He grabbed Hannibal’s lapels, suddenly scared that he might slip away like a fish. “You’ll never leave me, will you?”

Hannibal kissed his forehead. “I am always here with you.”

  
They examined the case files on missing children. They did not have much to investigate. Parents would of course report the disappearance of their children, but most of the time no one would care, some of the cases did not even get recorded.

Luckily enough, thanks the Great Old Ones, they found out about a boy named Christopher O'Halloran, who was spotted with an unidentified women by a security camera of a convenience store. He had been mutated, but not too much to be unrecognizable. He was on his way to his former family.

They arrived just in time.

They got the Lost Boys down right before they pulled the triggers at the pleading family, but Christopher fled. He crossed pass the fence and run to the swimming pool. Will followed and chased him to the shed. 

Cornered, the boy pointed his gun at Will’s chest. The left side of his head had been melted, his face distorted in horror.

Will raised his hands instantly. “It's ok. You're home now, put the gun down, Christopher.”

“Shoot him, Christopher.” The half-blood woman stepped out from the shed. She looked human enough, but her eyes stared at Will with no humanity in them. She squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Shoot him for me.”

Will shook his head, begging the boy. A deep noise screamed in his ears.

Christopher looked at him in tears. 

The gun trembled—a loud bang pierced through the air. Will froze, but pain did not come. Green blood exploded like a firework and woman fell onto the ground. Christopher dropped the gun as other agents got him. 

Beverly rushed into Will’s sight, putting her gun back. “You alright, Will?”

Will nodded, his gaze fixed at the woman. She gaped in pain. Thin ichor gushed out from her wound in a muddy, disgusting shade of green.

The forensic team checked the boys up one by one, packaging their belongings, brushing hair or dust off them, and examining their mutated bodies.

“Where did you get the mutagens?” Jimmy asked as Brian was drawing blood from C.J., the oldest boy who had mutated into a strong kin with no human features left except he still walked up straight with two limbs.

“Mother got the blessing for us.” C.J. moved his beetle mouth.

Will winced inwardly.

“She brought them from the streets?” Jimmy asked as scribbling on the report.

The boy stared into space.

“What did she give you?”

“Milk.”

“The real one from the Faceless Cow or the artificial one?”

Silence.

“Ingested or injected?”

The boy smirked. “Our mortal flesh and blood should all be purified.” He refused to say other words after that.

They asked Christopher O'Halloran the same questions. The boy could not stop shuddering like a dying bird on tree roots.

“We had two more brothers originally,” he said when Beverly checked his mutated hands. “They had been blessed, but she wanted to give them more. They drank a cup each and got injected a few times. One of them melted into a paste and the other one had his body flipped inside out.”

They glanced at each other in unease.

Beverly broke the chilling silence. “You witnessed the whole thing?”

Christopher nodded. 

“And you still let her mutate you?”

“It’s a blessing.” The boy looked at her with his remaining eye, searching for recognition. “Only the strongest ones could make it. They weren’t strong enough.”

Will clenched his jaw, hugging himself tighter. “You still believe her even after she killed one of your ‘brothers’ and almost made you kill your real parents?”

“She..she said they are not our real families. We are special, we are the children of gods, but we were born wrongly into the mortal world. She’s helping us to become what we are supposed to be.” Seeing their disbelief on their faces, his voice got daunted. “What, what’s going to happen to me?”

“We’ll send you to the hospital first,” Brian said. “The doctors will monitor and take care of your body. They will likely give you gene stabilizers to prevent further mutations, but you must be aware that all these changes right now are irreversible.”

The boy looked at his hand fearfully.

“How does the Milk taste like?” Will asked.

Christopher looked up in surprise, an innocent look such a child like him should have. “It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  
“You’re not thinking to take some Milk, aren’t you?” Beverly quirked a brow at Will after they sent the boys away.

“Only curious,” Will said. “But not curious enough to have a drop of it.”

Beverly eyed him. “I had a really good friend in high school.” She leaned against the autopsy table Will was sitting on. “Her birth certificate said she was a human as she had only one ‘significant change’ instead of three as the law suggested, but she wanted a ‘godkin’ printed on her driver’s license like her brother’s. She applied for mutagens once she turned 18. 

“I accompanied her to the church. She lied on the altar and got three diluted shots. I must say it looked like she was going to have lethal injection. Anyway, the effect manifested itself very quickly. Could barely catch up with the changes. I heard bones cracking and saw her face becoming unrecognizable. I asked her how she felt. She said it was extremely painful but also exhilarating.”

Jimmy gaped at her. “Then what?”

“Like 60% of the cases, she died.” Beverly shrugged. “Don’t ask me to describe how she ended up looking like.”

“Did you want to apply to mutagens at that time?” Will asked.

“A bit. Yeah, I accompanied her partly to see how it worked and how it would turn out. But after seeing that, I’ve never had a thought about it.”

Beverly and Brian looked at Jimmy simultaneously. Jimmy raised his mutated hands. “I was born like this."

“So was I,” Brian said.

“‘No one is asking you, half-blood.’”

Will gave a weak laugh.

Candles illuminated the dining table with their soft flames. Will studied the dancing shades on Hannibal’s face, fascinated. The generous meal of lobster bisque, smoked salmon salad, roasted turkey, fruit trifle, and wine, and the glee in the air had made him full and tipsy. 

“I believe you are enjoying yourself tonight.” Hannibal looked at him softly.

“I enjoy being with you.” Will popped a strawberry into his mouth. “Though I must say I’ve never had a great Winter Solstice night in a long time.”

“I would say the same.” Hannibal smiled at his quizzical look and took a spoonful of the trifle. “Although I do hold dinner parties for the festival and many of my acquaintances would come, the house still feels empty to me.”

“Your house is too big.” Will taunted Hannibal. “Perhaps you should have some dogs as I do. You’d never have private time anymore.”

Hannibal returned a smile. “Only your company could fill my heart.”

It was even too sugary to Will’s sweet tooth. 

He bit his spoon, licking the cream on it. 

“I used to fear Winter Solstice when I was a child,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “I really believed the Winter Goat would show up at midnight, drag me out of my bed, and eat me alive. So I did not dare to sleep and would spend the whole night staring at the windows.”

“The Winter Goat only eats misbehaving children. Were you a naughty boy?”

The suggestive word made Will’s face flushed red.

Hannibal chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about. I will protect you when any monsters appear.”

“You are my knight?”

“You are my consort.” Hannibal brought Will’s hand to his lips, placing a hot kiss on Will’s knuckles, which left Will flustered and dazed.

They finished the trifles. Hannibal said when Will stood with him, “Leave the dishes for tomorrow. Go to the living room. I will bring you your gifts.”

Gifts? Plural? 

Will mused on it while retreating to the living room. He sat on the sofa and took out a small velvet box from his pants pocket, opening it to watch the collar pins glimmer under the light of fire. 

It was a pair of silver antlers with two delicate chains. Will had found it at a store when he was simply looking around. He had no idea what to buy. Hannibal seemed to have everything he needed. The pins looked quite fitting to Hannibal’s fancy suits so he bought them quickly. 

Will closed the box when Hannibal entered the living room with his hands hidden behind his back. He sat beside Will, smiling as he handed Will a rectangular box.

Will untied the ribbon curiously, and he blurted out a laugh at the aftershave bottle in the box. “You really hate my aftershave that much?”

Hannibal grinned. “It was only meant to be a joke.” He placed a bigger box onto Will’s thighs. “This is what I wanted to give you.”

It was a dark woolen scarf. Will took it up quickly. The wool was smooth and soft as cloud, radiating a familiar warmth. Piano pieces. Knitting needles. A pair of skilled and gentle hands.

“You made it yourself?” He asked in delight, rubbing his cheek against the soft scarf.

Hannibal nodded. “Let me help you put it on.” He wrapped the scarf around Will’s neck, looking at him longingly. “You are beautiful.” He caressed Will’s heated face.

Will turned his face away. “It’s too hot in here. I’ll wear it outside.” He put the scarf back carefully and shove his gift into Hannibal’s hands. “I, I only have this for you. I know you don’t wear it, but I just think it suits you.”

Hannibal opened it without looking away from Will, then a surprised look flashed over his face. “It is lovely, Will.” He gave a soft kiss to Will and stood up, offering a hand elegantly. “I want to dance with you. May I?”

“I don’t dance, Hannibal.” Will raised his right hand in hesitation.

“I can teach you.” Hannibal pulled him up and brought them to the fireplace.

“I’ve drank two glasses. I’ll keep stepping on your feet.”

“I am aware of the risk.” Hannibal smiled. “Place your left hand on my shoulder, please.”

Will did so and Hannibal pressed a palm against his shoulder blade. The closeness made his cheeks get pink.

“Don’t be afraid, Will. I will not let you fall,” Hannibal said. “It is not as complicated as you expect. You will move your left and right foot alternatively. Your movements will be confined in a square. Now, think of yourself standing at the top-right corner of it.”

Will stared at the floor. “Ok.”

“Move back your right foot, then slide your left foot diagonally to the bottom-left corner. Good. Move your right foot next to your left foot. Great. We have finished the first three steps.” Hannibal pecked Will’s cheek as a reward, which almost make Will lose his concentration. 

“The next stage is similar. Move your left foot forwards, then slide your right foot diagonally to the top-right corner, and finally let your left foot join your right one. Excellent. You have returned to the original spot and finished all the steps. Let us try again? I will count this time.” 

Will was a bit clumsy following the steps, but it was manageable. They tried a few times and Hannibal began guiding him into a turn. He stumbled at first, kept apologizing that he found himself annoying, though Hannibal was patient as always. He eventually managed to keep up after a few more tries.

“We should put some music on.” Hannibal kissed the back of Will’s hand and went to put some music.

Will did not know the piece. It sounded luxurious, bright and warm.

They put their hands on each other again, standing much closer this time. Their chests touched as they breathed. Hannibal’s breath brushed his lips enticingly.

He had no idea when did they start. All of the sudden they moved and turned around, as if the world was spinning around them. The light of the flame danced in Hannibal’s dark eyes, enthralling Will’s thudding heart. Will parted his lips under Hannibal’s craving gaze without realizing. 

They halted. A hot kiss alighted on his lips. Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his waist and he hugged back. They sucked and nibbled their lips and entwined their tongues together, performing a slow, erotic dance.

Hannibal stroked Will’s waist and his hand secretly crept towards Will’s bottom, bringing their lower bodies together. Will grabbed Hannibal’s collar with a soft moan. He rocked his hips slightly, fueling their desires with lazy thrusts, which made Hannibal nipped his lip as a warning, his wine-red gaze searing with desire and love.

Will’s heart beat fast with the same vehemence. He smiled and held Hannibal’s hand. He said out what he had prepared for a long while ago: “I want to take the next step with you.”

Hannibal paused then kissed him deeply, making him breathless and dizzy. 

“I hope it is not the alcohol talking.” Hannibal rested his forehead against Will’s.

“I’ve decided it a while ago,” Will whispered. “I want you, Hannibal. Make me yours.”

Hannibal nuzzled his cheek and neck, his accented voice hoarse and deep, sending shivers through Will’s body. “Go to bed and wait for me.” He caressed Will’s face and let him go in reluctance.

As Hannibal went to lock the house, Will climbed upstairs and staggered into the bedroom. He sat on the bedroom bench, wiggling his feet out of his shoes and socks while talking off his shirt. His heart pounded in excitement. His legs could barely support him when he stood to strip off his pants and boxers. 

Stepping out from the pool of clothes, Will went to sit on the bed. The traces on the bed sheets left by their intimate acts last night heated his skin. The ghostly touch swam on his torso and teased his sensitive skin. He shivered, half-hard already. 

He stroked his inner thighs, hoping to ease his need, but his mind could not stop thinking about how Hannibal would take him tonight, and how it would feel like to be filled and taken.

His cock stirred up and he shifted in discomfort, refusing to touch himself.

Hannibal strode into the room with his jacket, waistcoat, and tie hanging from his forearm, as eager as Will was. He dropped them onto the carpet and took off his shoes and socks as he advanced on Will. He stopped as their knees touched. He tore off his shirt carelessly, his movements wild and dangerous.

Will’s cock swelled even more under Hannibal’s hungry gaze. He grabbed the bed covers when Hannibal’s belt fell onto the floor with a thud. 

Hannibal bent to kiss his forehead. “No need to be nervous, Will.” It did not help much when he was unzipping and taking off his pants, his tight boxers bulging with his erection.

Will swallowed hard as Hannibal pushed down the last layer of fabric to reveal the thick cock he craved for so badly. Hannibal pounced and pinned him down onto the bed. The passionate lips and tongue tangled with his instantly. He responded with the same enthusiasm, wrapping his arms and legs around Hannibal who ground against him in a leisure way. Will gasped through his trembling lips, spreading his legs wider to have more contact. 

The alluring lips landed on his throat and set fire from his collarbones to his chest. Hannibal played with Will’s nipples with his tongue and fingers, making them swell and itch. Will writhed in need, moaning softly as Hannibal nipped and pinched his aching nipples.

Hannibal crawled down, his lips leaving scorching trails on Will’s stomach. His heavy breath hit Will’s cock which jerked in anticipation. He only left a soft kiss on Will’s thigh and shifted away quickly. 

Will opened his eyes in confusion. Hannibal pulled out the nightstand drawer and took out a lube. Will swallowed dryly.

Hannibal settled back between Will’s legs, his cock throbbing, glittering with precum. 

Will stared, wanton but anxious. “Will, will it hurt?”

“It should not be painful if you are relaxed,” Hannibal said softly. “It might be slightly uncomfortable to you at first, but you will soon find it pleasurable.” He paused. “It is ok if you want me to stop.”

Will shook his head. “It’s just…” He bit his lip, his eyes glued to the cock. “You are large.”

A smirk pulled up Hannibal’s lips. “Don’t worry, Will. We will start with fingers first.”

“Appetizer first?” Will blurted out.

“Always.”

Will laughed and lay his head back.

Hannibal poured lube on Will’s cock and stroked him lightly. The liquid trickled down across his balls and perineum to his clef. The tickling and sticky feeling made him squirm. Hannibal hushed him, reaching between his cheeks and running from his hole to the tip of his cock. He hummed, trembling in waves of pleasure. 

Hannibal coated his fingers with lube and searched for Will’s hole again. Will tensed slightly at the cold brush of fingers. Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s cock, and as Will was distracted, he rubbed Will’s hole gently. Will moaned. His muscles loosened under the tender massage, letting Hannibal’s finger slide in and out.

“Is it alright, Will?”

It was not particularly uncomfortable. Will just found it a bit weird, and the light touches left his hole tingling and sensitive he wanted Hannibal to soothe it.

He nodded, shifting to a more relaxed pose. 

Hannibal kissed Will’s knee before adding more lube to his fingers.

Will clenched as Hannibal pushed a whole finger inside him. Hannibal rubbed his hole and inner wall gently. He breathed, feeling himself relaxing further and further, but then a sudden wave of pleasure shocked him. He tensed with a grunt, and another wave hit him, making his cock leak.

Hannibal pulled away however.

“Don’t, don’t stop…”

“It would be more pleasurable if you take more in.”

Will could hear a smug smile in Hannibal’s voice, but he could not care less at the moment.

“More,” he demanded.

Hannibal pushed in two fingers. Will clenched uncontrollably at the larger intrusion. Hannibal stroked his tensed muscles, twisted and scissored him open, pulling out and sliding in deeper and deeper. Will could see the appeal of this. The friction itself was enough to make him shudder in excitement. 

Hannibal brushed his prostate. He moaned, bucking to get more. Hannibal withdrew and left him terribly empty.

“Do you want more, my love?”

Will nodded.

Hannibal coated himself with lube. Will watched with his eyes widened, unable to move or blink. 

“Lift your legs please.” Hannibal pushed his knee lightly.

Will did so and held his legs by the back of his knees. Hannibal grabbed his hips and pulled him closer before putting a pillow under his waist. Will was grateful at the gentle act, though it was impossible for him to relax at seeing Hannibal stroke himself and loom over him.

The cock rested heavily on his clef and ground against him. He moaned unwillingly, wanting it to fill the emptiness inside him.

Hannibal tapped and rubbed against Will’s hole. He pressed the thick head against Will’s rim to force it open then pulled away quickly, repeating the same act with no intention to enter Will.

Will squirmed in frustration. “Get inside, Hannibal. Take me, fuck me hard...”

The last word turned into a groan as Hannibal breached him. It was just the head, but it already stretched him way more than the fingers had done. He arched against the mattress, his hole quivering helplessly around the thickness. He felt like he was being split into halves and filled sweetly at the same time. His body opened up gradually for Hannibal to plunge in deeper and deeper, trembling in the incredible soreness and fullness. 

Hannibal thrust and buried his entire cock into Will. Will moaned in ecstasy, his hole sucking Hannibal’s cock in hunger, feeling it throbbing and leaking inside him.

They were conjoined finally. The barriers separating their minds fell and crumbled. The intense love and dedication from Hannibal to him swathed him from head to toe. 

He panted in a haze. He wanted to have Hannibal inside his body and his heart forever.

Hannibal stroked his tensed stomach and chest. “Is everything ok, Will?”

“Yes, yes,” Will breathed. “It feels great, you inside me…filling me up… It feels so good...”

“I am flattered.” Hannibal smiled and massaged Will’s abused hole. “You are tight, Will, sucking me greedily. Do you want more?”

“Yes, please…”

Hannibal began to move dragging in and out a slow, agonizing pace. His cock ground against Will’s inner walls and hit his prostate hard. The fierce pleasure drove Will mad. 

Will rocked his hips to fuck himself on Hannibal’s cock, begging with broken sounds. Hannibal thrust harder and faster. The pleasure was drowning Will. His toes curved and his hole clenched without control. The increased friction made him whine loudly.

Will came while sobbing. Hannibal continued to stroke and fuck him, milking every drop out of him. Will whined and spilled all over his stomach and his chest. Hannibal thrust deeper. The hot cum erupted and filled Will to his fullest. 

Will moaned in contentment. Hannibal pressed their foreheads together, breathing unsteadily. 

Still conjoined, they kissed each other’s lips and faces and necks lazily. 

“It is said that a couple who consummated in the yule night would never be apart.” Hannibal kissed Will’s throat.

Will raised a brow. “You would fuck me even if I hadn’t ask you to?”

“I would ask you, but I would never force you.”

“I know.” Will smiled and nipped Hannibal’s ear. He said with a sigh, “We should have jumped straight to this the first time we had sex.” 

“I wanted to have you the first time we met.” Hannibal smirked and printed a kiss on Will’s temple. He crawled up and withdrew carefully. Some of his cum seeped out from Will’s gaping hole. He pushed the liquid back and rubbed Will’s hole with his thumb, making Will wiggle in shyness.

“Let’s clean up,” Will said.

Will’s legs wobbled in the afterglow. Hannibal carried him to the bathtub and helped him to clean his body. Too tired to protest, Will stayed obediently as Hannibal bathed him and toweled him dry. His eyelids dropped when his head hit the pillow. Hannibal turned off the light and lay beside him. 

Half-asleep, he shifted blindly and draped an arm over Hannibal’s waist, wanting to nuzzle against his lover’s chest, but his palm landed on something soft and fluffy like feathers. He opened his eyes slightly. The room was too dark to see anything. He only caught a contour, a silhouette of a crown of enormous antlers, which vanished instantly as he blinked just like the blur illusions he would see sometimes when he was falling asleep. 

He hummed. A pair of familiar lips alighted on his forehead, luring him to his slumber.

He dreamt of a cavernous chapel adorned with golden ornaments and lit candles. Bells rung and birds chirped in the distance. He stood on a painting of a praying skull, dressed in a fine suit with a blue flower pinned to his lapel. 

Sounds of footsteps made him whirled around. He expected to see Hannibal, but it was the beautiful stag clothed in night and feathers. It puffed at him and nudged his face gently with its wet nose. He smiled and placed a reverent kiss on its snout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some setting of this AU which I can’t find a proper place to mention in the story: 
> 
> Identity documents like birth certificate and driver's license would show either “human” or “godkin” based on the number of mutations on the owners’ bodies. Some half-blood always requested to divide ‘godkin’ into ‘‘half-blood’ and ‘kin’ to separate their ‘noble’ bloodline from mutated humans.
> 
> The eldritch magic was kind of like ionizing radiation. Exposure to an extremely high dose of magic could mutate people into eldritch beings (kins) or kill them, but what would really kill them is not the magic but the mutations it caused. One would likely die if they were mutated into something without heart or lungs or other organs which are important for supporting the body functions.
> 
> The mutating effect of magic (of the same doses) depended on the type of exposure:  
> Touch < Inhalation <<< Ingestion <<< Injection
> 
> Things which emitted high levels of magic were called ‘mutagens”, the most common one was the Milk of the Faceless Cow and her children. 
> 
> The Cow was an eldritch creature which slightly looked like a cow having no head but a tapeworm mouth on its neck. It had no intelligence, only knowing to produce countless amount of milk for its countless children which were smaller clones of itself except they could only produce Milk but not offsprings. There were farms providing Milk for the church. People could only get one ‘blessing’ from the church legally, and there were illegal farms selling Milk in the black market for cults or people who wanted to mutate themselves further.


	7. Chapter 7

  
  
Will woke up to a warm palm caressing his face and hair. He drew a breath, vaguely registering the scents of coffee and bread. He nudged against the hand and wrapped the duvet tighter around his body. 

A fond chuckle vibrated in his ears. “It is time to get up, my sleeping mongoose.”

Will laughed but kept his eyes closed. “Maybe you should give me a true-love kiss,” he mumbled.

Hannibal bestowed kisses on him, soft and gentle. Will grabbed Hannibal’s sweater and edged closer to the warm embrace, but the sudden discomfort on his lower body made him stiffen.

“Will?”

“Nothing,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Just a bit sore down there…” It was his first time having penetrative sex, and Hannibal was very passionate. He ducked his head. Just thinking about that made him blush already.

“May I have a look?” Hannibal asked.

“What?” Will gripped the duvet, blushing deeply.

“I want to make sure that I did not hurt you last night.” Hannibal stroked Will’s hair. There was genuine concern in his voice, at which Will nodded his head reluctantly. 

Hannibal had seen every part of him. There was no need to be embarrassed about it. 

Will rolled onto his stomach. He shuddered slightly when Hannibal pushed away the duvet, exposing his bare body to the cold air.

Hannibal massaged the sore muscles on Will’s lower back. Will hummed, relaxed. The hands roamed down and covered his bottom, rubbing and squeezing the muscles tenderly. It could still be counted as an innocent massage, but then Hannibal grabbed and spread his cheeks apart.

“Hannibal!”

“Stay still, Will. Let me examine you quickly.”

Will buried his red face into his pillow. Hannibal touched his hole lightly, making him gasp and hiss.

“Does it hurt?” Hannibal withdrew his hand instantly. “I don’t see any tearing.”

“You are making me hard.” Will squirmed but failed to escape from the firm grip on his buttocks. He could hear Hannibal’s smirk.

“It is natural to be aroused by your lover’s touches.” Hannibal branded a hot kiss on Will’s nape and caged Will in his arms as Will tried to cover himself. He pecked Will’s face. “How did you feel last night?”

Will hid his face onto Hannibal’s chest, breathing in the familiar and calming scent. “It was perfect. I…I’d like to do it again.”

Hannibal kissed his forehead. “Did you sleep well?”

Will nodded, thinking of the chapel and the beautiful stag. The softness of its fur and feathers still lingered on his hands.

  
The stag visited his dreams more often than before, following him along riverbanks and accompanying him into the water, watching him closely with its intelligent, unfathomable eyes. 

Not fooled by its graceful appearance, Will knew it was wild by nature. It stood taller than him, its crown of antlers sharp and massive, stained with old and fresh blood. It could charge at him and gore him to death easily, turning his peaceful dreams into endless nightmares. Though it never showed malevolence to him, friendly even.

Will enjoyed its company.

Police cars and tapes surrounded the motel. The Winter Solstice had passed, though the holly flowers and poinsettias stayed in place, adding vivid colours to the dull atmosphere.

Will got out of his car while rubbing his eyes behind his glasses, shuffling his unwilling feet on the snow to keep up with Jack who had rung him a dozen of times early this morning.

“...mutilated, displayed. Thought it might be the Chesapeake Ripper but no surgical trophies were taken.”

Will straightened himself at the killer’s name. The Ripper had not put on any shows for two years. 

“That’d would interesting if it was him.” He put on his surgical gloves, his lips quivered with a smile. 

They passed through the coroners and agents. 

Eyes. 

It was Will’s first thought.

The hollow skulls of the corpses kneeling on both sides of the bed stared at him. What made up the essence of consciousness and humanity had been smashed into carrion in the skulls.

Will’s morbid curiosity tempted him into taking off his glasses to look deep into them. His legs moved forwards on their own accord, attracted by the dark chasms. 

It was a much more horrific sight on the front side of the bodies. Their faces were broken and wrecked, skin and flesh flaking off from the bones, as if someone had sawn them off with a blunt and rusty knife. Their eyeballs had been burst in the sockets.

Fishing lines held up the couple’s bodies, but they kept their heads low, praying at the bed in silence.

“Blind and mindless mortals?” Jimmy took a photo at the woman’s face, mumbling a ‘cheese’.

“He slept here—hair on the pillow and the sheets are still damp,” Beverly said, bending over the nightstand to inspect the pool of vomit. “And he threw up here.”

“Couldn’t stomach what he did?” Jack asked.

Will walked closer to the bed, waving his hand over the crumbled blanket. Strong scents mixed together, one of which imbued his chest with a satisfying, addictive feeling. Righteousness.

He closed his eyes to draw in more. A cold, acidic note bloomed on his tongue.

“I don’t sense magic,” he said. “It was a human.”

“He’s making himself god by making his own worshippers?” Beverly asked.

Will shook his head. “They weren’t praying to him. They were praying for him.” He wet his dry lips. “He’s afraid.”

“What is somebody who could do something like this afraid of?”

Will glanced at the faceless corpses. He shivered in the cold. “He’s dying.”

  
“Once upon a time there was a poor man who had too many children to feed,” Hannibal said, throwing a medical book down at Will. “When his thirteen child was born, he decided to find him a godfather. 

“Too wary of the frantic worshiper and godkin, he refused both of their offers and gave his child to the Faceless Death for his impartiality.”

Will hummed to indicate he was listening, burying his head on the heavy book. The small letters swam and squirmed on the pages.

Hannibal descended from the balcony with a pile of books while continuing telling Will the story. “Death raised the child as his own. When the child became a young man, Death gave him a magical herb which could cure any diseases, but it could only be used when Death was standing at the patients’ heads. If he was standing at their feet, they were doomed.”

Will raised a brow. “So you are saying the killer should place the corpses at his head?”

Hannibal shook his head, smiling. “One day the young man was summoned by the king. The king was bedridden. Death stood at his feet. The young man did not want to let the king die as the king had promised him a fortune if he could cure him. He turned the king around so Death would be standing at the king’s head. 

“The God of Death was enraged. He showed the young man his true form. 

“Horrified by the eldritch being, the young man was trembling when he swore he would not be disrespectful to the god again.

“A while after that he was summoned to look at the sick princess. He fell for her beauty instantly. But Death stood at her feet as well. Infatuated with the princess, the young man forgot about the wrath of the god. He did the same trick, however, instead of saving her, he turned her into an abomination. She could neither live nor die, screaming eternally in the most horrible pain in the world. 

“The young man was haunted by the princess’ scream no matter where he went. He begged the god to take her away, to kill her. The merciless and yet fair god gave him no answer. And the young man eventually went deranged, killing himself and submitting to the god.”

In all of the fairy tales the characters always ended up involved in gore and death.

“Your killer here made a sacrifice to beg for the Faceless One’s mercy, too naive to be aware of the unbiased and unavoidable nature of death.”

“May be he’s too aware of it,” Will said, amused. “Can’t beat god, become him.” 

Hannibal smiled. “You said he was afraid.”

Fear was more likely the result of it. “He feels abandoned.”

“Ever feel abandoned by the gods, Will?”

Will raised his gaze at the peculiar question. “It’s arrogant to think they exist for us.” 

He turned to face the windows, looking beyond the glass and dimness. The city lights shined like stars. 

He fumbled with the corners of the pages, letting the paper brush his fingertips to anchor himself.

“I look at the gods the same way I look at the cosmos,” he breathed. The first time he lay on a lawn and looked at the night sky, the boundless darkness and the great river of stars rendered him speechless. “I see the insignificance of us;I see the beginning, and the looming, inevitable end.”

Hannibal walked closer to him and hugged him from behind. Their pale reflections merged together.

“You accept death, but this killer is reluctant to do so.” Hannibal looked at the darkness with Will. “If he were a classic paranoid schizophrenic, you might be able to influence him to become visible.”

Will blinked. “Scare him out into the daylight?”

“Might even get him to hurt himself if he hasn’t already.” Hannibal kissed Will’s face, stroking Will’s chest and stomach.

Will melted under the touch. “If he were self-destructive, he, he wouldn’t be so careful.”

“Unless he’s being careful about his self-destruction. Making priests who would pray over him when he sleeps.” Hannibal smiled, looking into Will’s eyes through their reflections. “Who prays over us when we sleep?”

  
Will fell asleep in his lover’s arms, and he woke up in his dream with the stag resting beside him, nudging and licking his face fondly, as gentle as a lover would be.

He buried his face onto its mane of feathers. It smelled of dew, nectar, honey, and musk.

Will stroked its fur to feel the strength under its leather-like skin. His eyelids dropped and he sunk deeper into his mind, knowing he would be safe with the beast watching over him.

  
Will craned his neck, imagining the time when the Great Old Ones had risen from their sleep and loomed over the Earth, looking down at them with their cold, indifferent gazes.

Musk and coldness prickled his skin. He pulled his jacket tighter to his body.

A dead body hung above them like a chandelier with numerous limbs and tentacles. Its skull, or the part that resembled a skull, was smashed and faceless. Thick ichor dripped down from its toad-like skin, forming a large pool glowing in all shades of green—olive, lime, jade, emerald, and many more Will could not name or perceive with his human eyes.

Violence and righteousness illuminated the damp walls with red and blue hue. 

“Is it the Face Thief?” Jack asked.

“Yes.” It was funny they called the killer that, as if ripping someone’s face off was worse than killing them. 

“He’s not only aiming at humans.” Jack focused his flashlight on the broken face.

“He leveled it up to a bigger prey.” Will studied the ever-changing shades of green. “He’s bargaining with death. Let him live or he would kill all the gods’s children. Struggling in vain like an insect stuck on a spider web.”

“Wait, are those?” Jimmy pointed his flashlight at a small lumps of flesh on the ground Brian was inspecting. “What are those?”

Brian picked up one of them. “Eye. A pair of broken eyes.”

Beverly squinted. “Look too human to the victim.”

“The killer’s?” Jimmy asked.

“He ripped his own eyes out?”

Will hummed. “Need to be connected to the god to bargain with him.” 

Jack searched the floor for any red blood trails. “He won’t go too far if he is blind.”

A small smile pulled up the corners of Will’s lips. “Unless he has gained some inner eyes.”

  
“Have you determined how this killer is choosing his victims?” Hannibal asked as they snuggled together on Will’s sofa after a simple dinner.

“The couple in the motel and the half-blood in the alley were all criminals,” Will said, playing with Hannibal’s hand. “He’s a vigilante. He can tell if you’re naughty just by looking at you.”

“Gods have granted him inner eyes.”

Will huffed. “Gods have granted him inner eyes by giving him a tumor. I guess everyone would want a tumor now.”

Hannibal’s chuckle vibrated against his ribs. “Would you want to have inner eyes to see the true facet of the world?”

Will tilted his head. “I’m curious, but I don’t want to lose my mind.”

“You have a strong mind, Will. I believe you could see the truth and appreciate its beauty.” Hannibal gave him an inscrutable smile. “And I will always be with you. No need to worry of being lost.”

Will smiled back. “You said like you could grant me eyes, Doctor.”

“There are certain potions which are believed to have the power to help open your eyes.”

Will laughed. “You want to prescribe me some?”

Hannibal gave him an noncommittal hum. “I have the recipes.”

“Oh my cosmos, where did you get them? That’s illegal! Wait, where are my handcuffs?”

Hannibal smirked and held him tight. “I have read them from some old books. And they are not drugs, Will, not addictive and not harmful if you use the proper dose. I doubt they are illegal.”

“Unethical at least,” Will mumbled and rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. 

  
They found the killer in a barn.

Illuminated by shafts of sunlight, he lay on the floor awash with hay, used syringes, and opened cartons which spilled out large pools of iridescent liquid—Milk. 

Elliot Budish was no longer a human being, melted into a giant lump of meat with numerous twisting limbs protruding from its hairless skin. He writhed and crawled and squirmed like a slug being sprinkled with salt, shrieking at every move it made.

The enormous lump nearly occupied half of the space in the barn. They watched him struggling against his own death, not courageous enough to enter the barn.

Will swallowed down his nausea. He worried the screams of this abomination would haunt his mind forever.

“This will be the last one,” he said, wondering if they had enough cuffs for all those limbs.

Jack waved his flashlight at the meat, searching for a face or something. “It’s Budish?”

“He made himself ‘god.’” Will gave him a twisted smile. “It wasn’t god, wasn’t man, it was his choice to die.”

The large tumor eventually got motionless.

Jack walked off to call in the forensic team. 

Will stayed to study the abomination. Without a warning, it screamed and dashed to him.

Will gasped and staggered back, quickly pulling the door to block it. It smashed onto the door and nearly knocked Will over.

Will ground his teeth and pressed all his weight against the door, his heels digging into the soil but the door refused to be closed. Three or four arms stuck out from the gap and reached blindly at him. He leaned back but held still, pushing it back gradually. Soon the lump lost its strength, scratched at the other side of the door as it collapsed.

“I see what you are.” The dying tumor screeched in Will’s head.

Will smelled flame and coal. “What do you see?”

“Inside. I can bring it out of you.” It banged at the door, begging. “I will give you the majesty of your Becoming.”

  
“What did he see in you?”

Will shifted his gaze away from the fireplace. The warmth of flame had stained his cheeks pinkish, but he remained on the bed bench with Hannibal hugging him.

“He went mad.” Will rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. “He injected himself with pints of Milk. You wouldn’t want to look at that thing he’d become. That was exactly the ‘abomination’ in the story you’d told me. Could probably drive you mad.”

Hannibal stroked his scuff. He sighed as the firm hand soothed his goosebumps away.

“I had seen quite a lot of people being sent into the ER because of over-consumption of mutagens,” Hannibal said, burying his nose onto Will’s hair. “Their condition often deteriorated within minutes. There was nothing we could do.”

Will snorted. “We are damned by our own stupidity.”  
  
Hannibal hummed. “At least they would not contribute their foolishness to the gene pool.”

Will burst out laughing. “Would you ‘accidentally’ kill a patient on your operation table so they wouldn’t pass on their stupid genes?”

“Perhaps I did.” Hannibal captured Will’s sneer with his lips, stroking Will’s jaw. “The Face Thief wanted to punish sinners. He used his last strength to chase you. Perhaps he had seen something in your soul.”

“Something bad, you mean.” Will swallowed under the soft touch on his throat. “Or perhaps he just saw his own reflection on me.” 

“Will.”

He looked up. 

Hannibal smiled softly at him. “The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, and not the worst of someone else.”

Will’s breath trembled at the tenderness. He leaned forth, brushing his lips over Hannibal’s.

Heat sparkled between their skin. They sucked on each other’s lips slowly, exchanging hot and damp breath as their tongues entwined together. Will withdrew with his cheeks reddened, dazed by their mutual and intense feelings.

He asked, “How do you see me, Hannibal?”

Hannibal tucked a lock of hair behind Will’s ear, his eyes brimming with warmth. “You are beautiful, Will. Body and mind and soul. I want you to be my mate.”

Mate. Will chuckled at the weird word. 

Hannibal kissed Will, this time deep and possessively, and he only relented when Will was nearly out of breath. He pecked Will’s face and unbuttoned Will’s flannel shirt. Will wanted to strip Hannibal naked, but there were too many layers on the doctor. He had only taken off the suit jacket when Hannibal already had his hands on his bare torso. 

“Not fair.” Will shove Hannibal playfully. “Take those off.”

Hannibal smirked but obeyed. 

As the man was taking off the fancy suit, Will yanked off his own belt and pants. 

Their lips and hands returned to each other. Will hooked an arm over Hannibal’s shoulder and with the other hand he stroked Hannibal’s fuzzy chest fondly. Hannibal let Will nibble at his lips as much as he wanted, more focused on caressing Will’s body.

He rubbed Will’s nipple with his palm, making it swell and red before he pulled and pinched it with his fingers. Will shuddered without control. Addicted to the dull pain and pleasure, he struggled weakly, trying to get Hannibal to touch both of his nipples, but Hannibal’s hands slid down to his stomach and over the waistband of his boxers, covered his bulge and palmed him, making his toes curl. 

Will bucked into the hand and reached to Hannibal’s crotch, groping the hardening flesh through the thin layer of fabric. He grabbed the shaft and brushed Hannibal’s balls. The heat almost burnt his palm.

Hannibal purred. He tucked down Will’s boxers and took Will’s cock into his hand. Will jolted with a grunt, unable to focus on his task with Hannibal teasing his glans with light touches. Hannibal pushed him onto the bed, leaving wet kisses over his chest and stomach while pulling his boxers away. 

The man hovered over him with a hungry gaze. Will smiled and spread his thighs wide. Hannibal’s torso pressed onto him. He moaned. It always made him feel safe and anchored.

They kissed fiercely with their limbs tangled together. Hannibal pressed his lips against Will’s skin, planting kisses all over his chest and belly. And he did not stop there. He shifted to Will’s inner thigh which tensed under the attack of his hot kisses. Will’s breath quickened as Hannibal edged closer and closer to his aching cock.

Hannibal’s nose brushed his shaft with an audible sniff. Will let out a small noise. His cock jumped as Hannibal looked up at him seductively. 

Hannibal kissed Will’s balls and ran his tongue from the root to the tip. Will gasped, trembling and his cock leaking. Hannibal lapped at the liquid and sealed his lips around Will’s head, giving Will a sharp suction before sinking down to take him all in.

Will tensed and shut his eyes tightly, his cock leaking profusely. Hannibal groaned and raised his head up slightly to brush his tongue over Will’s head, savouring his taste and encouraging more.

Will whined weakly, using all of his strength to grip the sheets and fight against the firm hands pinning his hips still. 

“Don’t, don’t torture me…”

Hannibal hummed. Palming Will’s balls, he sucked and swallowed Will down slowly. Will kicked at the mattress, begging. Hannibal sped up. His hand gilded pass Will’s balls, stroking and pressing against the tensed hole, threatening to breach him.

Will’s cock throbbed desperately in the persistent heat wave of Hannibal’s mouth. His body tensed more and more tighter. His fingers and toes curled. He warned Hannibal between stifled noises, but Hannibal sucked him even harder and he spurted into Hannibal’s throat with a silent cry. Hannibal swallowed every drop of him before pulling away, crawling over him with a wolfish grin, backlit by the bright fireplace. 

A flickering shadow of branches flashed in Will’s blurry sight. He tried to catch it, but Hannibal’s lips came down and drowned him in fiery passion.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tumor appearance is based on the Huddle in the game Inside.


	8. Chapter 8

  
  
  
Will hated hospitals, and he hated psychiatric hospitals the most. Those places were deluged with anguish and madness, wails bouncing between the pale walls and screeches scratching the rusted doors. All kinds of vulgar and morbid desires would ring in his ears. Frenzy would grab his limbs, attempting to lure out the one residing deep in his brain. 

When Will stepped out of the car, he was already trembling without control, breathing fast and shallowly. “I, I can’t stay here.” He staggered back and pressed his back against the car door, dizzy and disorientated.

“I only need you to take a look at the body,” Jack said. “I need to know if it is the Ripper.”

“Give me the photos or something else. I, I, I can’t do this.” Will shook his head, panting quicker but drawing no air in. Jack had no idea, no one would have any ideas of what places like this could do to him…

“Will. Will? Do you need Dr. Lecter here?”

Will nodded without thinking, and he regretted it as he retreated back into his car. Hannibal should be busy now. He shouldn’t bother him. He shouldn’t worry him. What if Hannibal saw him as weak? Useless? Troublesome?

He pulled at his hair hard. He tried to control his breathing but his convulsing chest fought against his will.

Faint knocks startled him. He glanced at the window. Hannibal.

Will let out a small whine in relief.

Hannibal got into the car and sat beside him, removing his fist from his hair and wrapping it gently in his hands. “I am here, Will.”

Will’s throat tensed. Tears stung his eyes as he watched Hannibal took off his glove and held his hand tighter. The familiar warmth settled his mind instantly. 

“I, I’m sorry.”

Hannibal shook his head. His hair was ruffled, and his coat and his tie were askew, but his full attention was on Will. “I will always be here when you need me.” He stroked Will’s hand. “You don’t need to go in there. I could talk to Jack, then we could go home and have lunch together.”

Will breathed unsteadily. “Jack wouldn’t be happy about this.”

“I don’t care about him. I don’t care about the cases and the killers. I only care about you.” 

“Hannibal…” Will rubbed his eyes. “It, it might be the Ripper… I, I can take a look if you accompany me.”

Hannibal squeezed his hand. “I am your paddle, Will. Don’t go to the dark places without me.”

They followed Jack and stepped across the threshold. Hannibal stayed close to Will, his calming aura offering Will a strong anchor. Will focused on his breath and hid half of his face behind the scarf Hannibal had made for him, seeking comfort from its warmth and scent.

They met Frederick Chilton, a kin shrink with amphibian features. Hannibal knew him. They greeted each other and had a small talk, though Hannibal did not look keen to see him again. 

Will ignored Chilton’s hand when the shrink looked at him.

Chilton withdrew his hand with no apparent embarrassment. He studied Will closely. His protruding eyes sunk into his skull as he blinked. “You are quite the topic of conversation in psychiatric circles, Mr. Graham.”

Will stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. “Am I?”

“A unique cocktail of personality disorders and neuroses that makes you a highly skilled profiler. You are even a psychic, aren’t you?” Chilton turned to Hannibal, sneering. “You are lucky to be his doctor, Hannibal.”

“Will is not my patient, and he is not here to be analyzed,” Hannibal said in masked displeasure. 

“Perhaps he should be.” Chilton smiled. “We’re woefully short of material on your sort of thing, Mr. Graham. Would you mind talking with some of the staff. Maybe a special visit?”

Will drew a sharp breath to repress his annoyance. 

“Thank you, Dr. Chilton,” he said dryly. “I’d like to see the crime scene now.”

Chilton led them to the core of the mad house. A corpse was waiting for them like a bait. Iron doors rattled behind them. Will’s breathe hitched. Every part of him screamed in horror, his legs rigid and craving to turn back. Hannibal pressed a palm on his shoulder blade, rubbing small circles onto his back.

Coldness overflowed from the deserted room. The tranquility from death placated Will. 

A pair of empty eyes stared at him. He took off his glasses.

The corpse resembled one of the beautiful scenes he had studied with admiration countless times. The Wound Man.

Excitement squirmed beneath his skin.

He drew out a misty breath, walking closer to have a better look. Metal had pierced through the nurse’s body, but they were stained with only a faint trace of fear. Despite the brutal sight, the woman had an almost painless death. The whole scene was merely a replication, as empty as the corpse’s eyes.

Will looked away, grinding his teeth. Was that it? Was it a prank? He had come all the way here and what he got was a plagiarized work?

He bit back a laugh. “Why would you think this was the Ripper?” 

“Gideon was admitted two years ago,” Jack said. “The Ripper also disappeared over two years.”

Will kneaded his frown. “And how did Gideon got arrested?”

“He killed his wife and her family. Caught red-handed. Do you want to interview him?”

Will doubted he could behave himself and not strangle that liar through the bars. He put on his glasses. “I need fresh air.”

Will kept himself away from the autopsy table as the team inspected the ugly replica. Unlike him Hannibal had much more interest in that. He peeked over the team’s shoulders but got bumped by them. Will could not hold his smile any longer as Hannibal staggered backwards in rare clumsiness.

“Just stay here with me, Doctor.” He beckoned. 

“Forgive my curiosity.” Hannibal returned to his side. “It is an unusual chance to study a living example of the Wound Man.”

It was not a place for laughter, but Will laughed nonetheless. Jack gave him a sideways glance. 

He shook his head. “How do you see the Ripper, Hannibal?”

Hannibal took the files Will handed to him, reading them as if studying a patient’s medical records. “The Ripper is well-trained. Meticulous. His victims had no connections with each other. Men and women, humans and godkins. He sees them as the same. He took their organs as trophies while they were still alive. He loves inducing pain.

“While this ‘Ripper’ you have here, killed the nurse before using the poles to pierce her body. He had little or no intention of torturing her.” He tapped the photo in disapproval. “Gideon was impulsive when he killed his family. And that chaotic scene did not match the style of the Ripper.”

Brian looked at them. “The nurse has the exact same wound patterns as the eighth victim of the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will shook his head. “The Ripper is artistic. Elegant. He elevates death to art. He won’t make something that is exactly as same as his old works. He wouldn’t have fun with this. This is...plagiarism.” He squeezed out the last word through his teeth.

“We never made the wound patterns on any of the Ripper victims public,” Jack said.

Will shrugged. “Perhaps someone had told him about the details.”

Hannibal said, “Once a suggestion was planted in one’s mind, it could be able to grow fast and refuse to be uprooted.”

Exactly. “Even manipulate them to believe in something impossible.” 

“Someone is manipulating Gideon?” Jack asked.

Will hummed, raising his chin and massaging his nape. “It also could be the real Chesapeake Ripper using him to mess with us.” He played with the rubber band of his glove. “Whatever it is, you are looking for someone who had talked to him and helped us with the cases before, like Dr. Chilton. He looks amoral enough to do such thing.”

  
Jack had questioned Chilton, and Hannibal had invited him for a dinner, hoping he might revealed something to an old friend, though they got nothing out form his frog mouth. On the other hand Gideon still claimed to be the Ripper. They were at a dead end. Then a midnight phone call sheered everything to hell.

It was Miriam Lass, or more accurately, the phone record of her calling Jack before she disappeared, presumably killed.

Will had to say it was a brilliant trick. 

Only a phone call, and Jack was already jumping like a frog in boiling water.

“We need to push him.” Jack came into a conclusion.

Will frowned and looked up from his desk. “Push him toward what?”

Alana said, “We might be able to influence him to blow up and become visible.”

Jack nodded. “Could we enrage him?”

Something squeaked in Will’s ears, raising the hair on his nape and arms at once. He shuddered to shake it off.

“He’s already enraged with Gideon. Don’t fool around.” Will huffed and zipped his bag. Jack pressed it down, which nearly made him bristle.

“Gideon’s just a tabloid rumor. We need to make him the truth.”

Really? Will glanced at Alana. Agreement was written on her face. He dropped his hands onto the desk. What the cosmos were they thinking about? The Ripper was definitely not a kitten to play with.

He warned them: “You might push the Ripper to kill again just to prove he isn’t in a hospital for the criminally insane.”

“I have to push, Will.”

Will clenched his jaw. Fool. Fool and blind. “You’re thinking about Freddie Lounds.”

  
Will sat silently with Jack and Alana, keeping his gaze on the glass desk only.

Freddie Lounds the half-blood with coal-dark skin and fiery hair walked into the room. 

Will’s nose caught an unexpected scent. He glanced up with his frown deepened. It was not a residue;it radiated from her vigorously. Impurity. She was a kin. 

Will snorted and laughed inwardly. Well, claiming herself to have the ‘noble, superior’ ichor was the most harmless lie she could make. 

  
“Jack, I’m not going back to B.S.H.C.I. .” Will hissed at his phone, rolling onto his side to avoid the sunlight while ruffling his messy hair.

“Something happened, Will. I need you to be here.”

“Gideon has killed again?” Will huffed. “How much worse can be the security there?”

“It’s something worse than that. I need your psychic power,” Jack said. “I’ll ask Dr. Lecter to accompany you.”

Will opened his mouth but the monotone beeping cut off all the sound. He rolled his eyes and threw his phone back onto the nightstand. Hannibal’s phone vibrated the next second.

They both groaned. Hannibal reached over Will for his phone, pressing his bare chest to Will’s back. 

He kissed Will’s nape before answering the call. 

“Good morning, Agent Crawford.”

Will turned around and hid his face on Hannibal’s chest as he began giggling almost hysterically.

Hannibal patted his hair. “No need to apologize, Jack. I will be there with Will.” He ended the call quickly and cupped Will’s face to kiss him. 

“We’re like having an affair with each other.” Will kissed back.

Hannibal raised a brow. “Should I climb out of your window right now?”

“Remember to fall on the ground and break some of your old bones.”

Hannibal nipped at Will’s smirk. “Did Jack say why he needs you there so desperately?” 

“Something is wrong and he might need my psychic power? Not sure.” Will nuzzled his cheek against Hannibal’s hand.

“Freddie Lounds has confirmed Gideon is the Chesapeake Ripper. He has all the attention now. No reason for him to kill again to prove it.” Hannibal hid a cold smirk.

Will laughed. “Don’t tell me you believe that bullshit.”

Hannibal stroked the stubble on Will’s jaw, gazing at Will’s lips behind his long lashes. “A dangerous game Jack is playing. Any wise man could tell it was a trick to lure out the Ripper, to provoke him so he would make a lethal mistake. The Ripper knows it clearly.”

“But he couldn’t resist to come out.”

“Yes.” Hannibal pressed their foreheads together. “And instead of making mistakes, he would make a grand party.”

Will sighed as Hannibal’s lips touched his. “That’s what I have told Jack. Never piss off a god;never piss off a serial killer.”

  
Hoarse voices hummed in the building.

The workers taking them to Chilton’s office looked pale, covered with acidic sweat, as if they could sense what Will was feeling now.

Frenzy.

Chilton was pacing in his office and wiping his forehead, mumbling something to Jack who sat across from him rigidly. The shrink almost jumped upon seeing their arrival.

“What happened?” Will asked at their tensed silence.

Jack beckoned them to the desk. “Gideon disappeared in the middle of the night.”

Will took a seat, staying close to Hannibal and far away from the nervous auras coming from Chilton and Jack. “Why would you need me? I’m not a beagle and I can’t find humans.”

“Something took him away, Mr. Graham,” Chilton shrieked. “An eldritch being.”

As if he himself were not an eldritch being.

Chilton whirled around his computer screen and played a security footage to them.

It was recorded outside Gideon’s cell from a high angle. Gideon was sitting on his bed and playing with his fingers, looking normal enough. 

The video glitched.

Gideon snapped up his head at the iron door, his eyes widened and his face went slack. He stood, dragging his feet to the door as if he was controlled by something, shaking fiercely with the white noise. He kneeled and wailed. He pressed his body at the door and stuck his arms out between the bars, reaching madly at something invisible. 

“Oh, lord… My lord, please, please forgive me! I, I apologize for my blasphemy… Please…”

He bumped his head at the door and stabbed his left eye with his fingers.

Security guards appeared at the edges of the screen. Their faces all went blank and pale. A few of them smacked their heads at the walls, a few screamed and lunged at the others, biting right at their faces or necks and tearing off the flesh with their teeth.

The video shook violently.

“I’d accept your wrath. Please forgive me, Your Majesty…” Gideon poked at his remaining eye. “Yes, yes, I am an impostor. I am a false shepherd. My sin is trying to lead your lamb astray…”

The whole screen distorted with a deafening white noise, then it came back into clear focus. Gideon was no longer there. Another group of security guards rushed in and tried to stop their deranged colleagues from hurting each other.

The footage ended there.

Will swallowed with a large lump in his throat. 

“Did you see anything?” Jack asked.

“We are lucky the camera couldn’t capture it,” Will said. “Or we would all be poking each other’s eyes out now.” 

Jack clenched his jaw, not appreciating his dark humor as always. “Let’s go down there and have a look.”

Chilton had relocated all the prisoners from that floor, leaving the blood and flesh and broken eyes behind. The air was trapped in the narrow hall, concentrating the eldritch magic in a suffocating level, even stronger that the one in Garret Jacob Hobbs’ house. 

Will covered his nose, but the musk swept pass his glove and his clothes, perfuming every inch of his body. His knees wanted to buckle, to kneel.

“I don’t sense death,” he said in a weak voice. “At least he wasn’t killed here.”

“Is it a Royal?” Jack asked.

“You don’t need my psychic abilities to know the answer.”

“I need to be sure.”

Will sighed and rubbed his face. Laughter threatened to blurt out from his throat. “I told you it was a bad idea to poke the Ripper, Jack. Now he’s shown his wrath.”

“The Chesapeake Ripper is not a god,” Jack said. “He used scalpels and other tools to kill his victims, not claws or teeth or something else.”

“Or the Ripper has a close relationship with them. Close enough to make them care. Their consort maybe.” Will ventured closer to Gideon’s cell. The intense horror emitting from the metal bars burnt his palm. Crown. Feather. Claws.

He shivered, glancing back at Chilton. “Is there anyone still sane enough to tell us what they’ve seen?”

“They are all saying incomprehensible things. Famine and deer and such.”

Will looked back. A dark forest of antlers thrived in the cell. 

  
The case should be closed as Gideon had been taken away by a Royal, yet, a shrink who had written about Gideon and the Ripper was found dead in his office with his brain scrambled and tongue pulled out from his slit throat. All the blood was drained from his body and packed nicely in ice. Gideon’s fingerprints were all over the place.

“No magic,” Will said. “He’s alone.”

Brian looked up from the corpse’s ‘tie.’ “Did the Royal just...let him go?”

“Gideon is taking down those who disrespect their identities. You could say the Royal has hired him.” Will showed a twisted smile. “He is going after every shrink that had a conversation with him or just mentioned about him.” He turned to Jack. “Still can’t contact Dr. Chilton?”

Jack shook his head solemnly.

Great. He was doomed.

“Hey, look at this.” Beverly pointed at the computer screen after turning it on. There was an exclusive article of this tongue-tied corpse on Tattle Crime web. 

“Took the picture before the blood was on ice,” Jack said. “Gideon was still here.”

He had Freddie Lounds.

What a wonderful news.

  
Another call from ‘Miriam Lass’ reeled them to an abandoned observatory. They surrounded it under the night sky. Snow smothered all the noise.

The armed agents barreled in. The scent of fear and the quivering voice of Freddie Lounds pierced the dry air, telling them she and Chilton were both alive, to Will’s disappointment.

Will stepped forth, wanting to see Gideon have at least cut off some of their limbs, but a hot breath fluttered at the back of his ear. He turned around in alert. 

The nightmarish stag stood proudly in front of him, its feathers ruffled in the cold gale. Musk drifted out from its fur. Moonlight illuminated its beautiful body, casting a vague shadow on the ground. 

Will shut his eyes tight, but his eyelids failed to wipe the creature away. He stumbled backwards. Snow collapsed under his weight and flooded into this shoes. He breathed in the cold air, clenching his fists and rubbing his eyes, only to find more concrete proof that he was not trapped in one of his dreams. 

The stag huffed out a mist at him and took a few steps to the road, kicking the snow with its dark hooves. It stopped and looked back at Will.

Will glanced back at the observatory, though his legs had made their own decision to follow the mysterious creature. 

Was it how people went missing from time to time? Like an over-trusting stray being led to other places, other dimensions?

Will walked into the dimness cautiously. The stag slowed down to stroll beside him and let him place a hand on its back, calm and relaxed as if they were only having a walk. 

The stag halted when they reached Will’s car. It nudged Will’s cheek encouragingly.

Will could not help but smile. 

The creature was so tall that he needed to crane his neck to look into its fathomless eyes. “Where do you want me to go?”

The stag gave him a soft breath and licked his face.

“Ok, ok. I’ll come with you.” He patted its snout and got into his car.

The stag galloped ahead of him. It did not take long for Will to recognize the road. They were in the way to Alana’s house.

Will pulled over quickly and texted Jack. The alarms in his head went crazy as he stumbled out of his car. He pulled out his gun without a thought, tailing the hooves prints on the snow.

A silhouette came into his view.

“Abel Gideon, FBI!”

Gideon turned his face at Will, revealing his hollow eye sockets. Blood had dried on his face like tears.

“I see,” Gideon said. “You are his little lamb, aren’t you?”

All of the hair on Will’s body rose. 

Will kept his arms steady while advancing closer. “Put your hands behind your head and kneel down.”

“Oh, no, no. Big mistake, officer. I’ve done nothing wrong.” Gideon waved his hands, grinning. “Those sacrilegious pigs are the ones you should be hunting down right now, for our god’s sake.”

“I am not a worshipper.”

“I wasn’t either. But he found me. He forgave me and chose me.”

Will scowled. “Which god are your worshipping?”

Gideon laughed. “You are so blind, little lamb. Turn around and open your eyes. He’s standing right behind you.”

A soul-chilling breath struck Will’s nape. Will shivered, unable to move under the enormous shadow towering over him. 

“So you aren’t helping me?” Gideon stepped closer to the house. “What a shame. You could have the chance to tear her eyes out and hear her sweet screams.”

“Stop right there.” Will yelled. “Chilton and other shrinks might deserve it, but Alana has done nothing to you.”

“You like her.” Gideon shook his head in feigned pity. “Someone is going to be jealous now. He will probably kill her himself. Skin her and burn her alive. Would be as delicious as a roasted fish.”

Will pulled the trigger at the ground. Gideon sprinted towards the house. Will shot again. The bullet struck into Gideon’s thigh and dragged him down, but the mad man crawled up without wincing, lunging at Will instead. He pinned Will onto the ground and squeezed Will’s throat.

Madness scorched and suffocated Will. He growled and shot at Gideon’s stomach, bending his knee up to kick the mad man away. 

Will got up quickly. Gideon pounced at him again. He shot at the man’s chest twice. Blood sprayed over the snow. Gideon fell on the ground, coughing out his own blood. The choking sound sent shivers through Will’s whole body.

Gideon crawled at him, reaching at the _thing_ behind him. Blood gushed out from all his orifices on his distorted face. 

“All hail The Horned One... His Majesty...will curse us all…”

The muscles on Will’s face twisted as he shot again. Bullet exploded the mad man’s skull.

Will staggered backwards, his eyes fixated at the monster’s corpse. His heart beat strongly, yet at a steady pace.

The patter of hooves faded behind him as blinding beams of light penetrated the cold and darkness.

Alana and Jack hurried to him, looking at Gideon’s corpse, nauseated.

“Are you ok, Will?” Alana covered her mouth. “Why, why was he…”

“He wanted to kill you,” Will said. “I, I tried to stop him and he attacked me. He was frenzied.”

“How did you know he was coming here?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“No thanks to my ‘gifts,’” Will murmured.

“The most important thing is Gideon has been stopped now,” Alana said, looking at Will gratefully.

Will forced out a smile, keeping his darkened eyes down.  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

  
  
Will’s breath formed bubbles and rose to the blurred light. He followed them and breached out of the water, rubbing his face to wipe off the drops. Water trickled down his forearm and dropped back into the bath as red mist.

Hannibal walked into the bathroom. Will fluttered his damp lashes, the water clear and clean.

“Lemon and honey for your throat.” Hannibal handed him a mug. 

The aromatic steam and the golden colour of the drink put a smile on Will’s face. He drank it as Hannibal went to bring him fresh clothes. 

Hannibal did not leave after placing down the clothes. He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

Will looked askance at him. “Want to bath me, Doctor?”

“My pleasure.” Hannibal smiled. He helped Will to place the mug on the counter before sitting beside the bathtub, tilting Will’s chin up to inspect his throat, spiciness simmering under the gentle touch.

“Should apply some ointment after bath,” Hannibal said, leaving a kiss on Will’s jaw.

“Does it bad?” Will swallowed dryly.

Hannibal shook his head and combed Will’s hair with his fingers. “You have saved many lives tonight. I am proud of you, my brave little mongoose.”

Will huffed. He leaned against the bathtub. Hannibal brushed his neck softly with a washcloth.

“I didn’t see the lives I saved.” Will started at the spiraling mist of the bath. “I saw the monster I killed.”

“Different perspective. Same story.” Hannibal held up Will’s arm, brushing him from his shoulder to his fingertips. 

Will sunk down further into the water as Hannibal did the same to his other arm. He tried to convince himself it had felt good killing Gideon and the Shrike because he was saving lives. It did not worked.

“Don’t you find it disturbing that I enjoyed taking someone’s life?” he asked

Hannibal stroked Will’s collarbones. “You enjoyed taking Gideon’s life because you deemed him a monster. You saw him something evil that did not deserve mercy, like a venomous spider. You would not feel guilty at killing a spider, or you could be killed by its bite.”

He rubbed Will’s chest. The soft fabric brushed Will’s nipples. Will hummed and closed his eyes. 

“You’re saying guilty and mercy and all sort of kindness are in fact bad?”

“It depends on your definition of ‘bad.’” Hannibal’s hands roamed down to Will’s stomach. “Kindness is originally a product of selfishness. Without sharp claws and teeth, humans are weak and must rely on each other to avoid danger and hunt down bigger preys. The better the relationships you have with the others, the greater chance for you to survive and pass on your genes.”

“Some people are willing to sacrifice their lives to save someone they don’t even know.”

“And some are willing to kill innocent lives.” Hannibal smiled, rubbing Will’s legs. “It is not about a single individual. It is about the whole species. We are like cells living inside an organism. Some cells must be killed when infected or had mutated in order to protect the rest of the body from death.”

Will suppressed a laugh as Hannibal brushed the arch of his feet. “I can’t come up with anything to refute you but it somehow sounds like a sophistry.”

“Perhaps.” Hannibal returned and took Will’s soft member into his hand, stroking him suggestively.

“Dirty.” Will smacked Hannibal’s hand.

“You mean yourself?” Hannibal smirked. “Sit straight. Let me rub your back.”

Will quirked a brow. “I’m not straight.” 

Hannibal sighed. “Sit properly.” 

Will laughed and compiled, hugging his knees as Hannibal scrubbed his back.

“Now kneel please.” Hannibal purred at Will’s ear, which made Will shiver and get goosebumps.

Will grabbed the edge of the bathtub and got down on his knees. The washcloth slid down to his bottom. He expected it would continue down to the back of his thigh, but Hannibal grabbed his cheek suddenly and brushed his clef. He gasped and struggled. 

“Don’t be shy,” Hannibal said smugly. He only released Will after rubbing him a few more times, leaving him flushed deeply.

Will glared at Hannibal as the man toweled him dry. 

He put on his shirt only and paddled out of the bathroom to Hannibal’s bed. The hem of his shirt barely covered his lower body as he swayed his legs and wiggled his toes to let them dry.

Hannibal purred at him when returning with a small jar of ointment. He stroked Will’s thigh and nipped Will’s lips before unscrewing the lid. Musk spilled out from the jar.

“It has magic.” Will frowned.

“Little magic to speed up your healing process.” Hannibal dipped his fingers into it.

Will wrinkled his nose. “I, I don’t like it.”

“Don’t worry, Will. The magic in it is so weak that it could not mutate a strand of your hair even if you eat all of it,” Hannibal said, sitting beside Will. “I would not want you mutated either. You are perfect this way.”

Will smiled and let Hannibal plastered his throat with the cold ointment. He tried his best not to wipe it off with his hands. The musk from the stag was still haunting his skin.

“Hannibal…” He bit his lips. “Do you know about...The Horned One?”

“Where did you heard that name?” Hannibal placed the ointment on the nightstand.

“Gideon said it before I...before he died.” Will looked down at his hands. “I saw a thicket of antlers in his cell, just like the Shrike’s cabin full of antlers. The girl in the field was mounted in antlers too. Maybe that is the same god.”

“There aren’t many records of The Horned One as he does not appear often,” Hannibal said, treading his fingers into Will’s hair. “He is also called ‘The Deer God’ or ‘The Antlered Darkness’ because of his great crown of antlers. It is said that he is associated with winter and famine. He could induce a special kind of madness—insatiable hunger.”

The horrific scene of the Shrike eating his daughter flashed in Will’s mind.

He leaned on Hannibal’s chest, seeking his warmth. “Could he appear in someone’s mind?”

Hannibal paused his hand. “Does he appear in your mind, Will?”

“There’s always a stag in my dreams, and…it appeared in front of me tonight. I could touch it. It breathed at me and I could feel the heat and moist of its breath. It, it was not a hallucination. It led me to Alana’s house. And, and Gideon said that I am the god’s lamb.”

Hannibal caressed his stinging nape. “You have the god’s favour.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to have his favour. I don’t know what he wants from me.” Will buried his face onto his hands. “I’m...I’m not even a worshipper.”

“Perhaps he only wants to grant you wishes.” Hannibal held his hand and kissed his knuckles. “You wanted to catch the Shrike, so he helped you to understand the Shrike;you wanted to catch Gideon, so he led you to him. Some gods are sympathetic by nature. He is likely one of them. ”

Why wouldn’t the god simply grant him puppies and flowers? “And what will be the cost of my wishes?”

Hannibal chuckled at the dread in his words. “You worry too much, Will. You would be so much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself.” He fondled Will’s cheek, kissing his frown away. “Now, I forbid you to think about anything else.”

“Possessive.” Will smiled, distracted by a tender kiss. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s waist. Hannibal pressed him onto the mattress and leaned on him, making him feel safe and protected.

“I want to try something new tonight,” Hannibal whispered while peeling off Will’s shirt. 

Will watched Hannibal playing with his nipple. He shifted under the stinging sensation. “Yeah?”

Hannibal traced Will’s ear shell with his lips, breathing out hot air. “I want to take you from behind.” He roamed over Will’s chest and stomach, lighting fire on him. “I need you to be on all fours.” He palmed Will’s hardening cock. “I will lick you open and mount your hard so you can only think about me.”

“Fuck.” Will bucked up his hips quickly.

“That is what I plan to do.” Hannibal nipped Will’s lips and stood up to undress himself.

Trapped in the anticipation, Will stayed still, his chest heaving. Will reached up to Hannibal’s thigh as soon as Hannibal pushed down his own pants and boxers. Will sat to wrap his hand around Hannibal’s cock, stroking the shaft and weighting the balls with his palm. It quickly swelled and hardened to the full size. Thinking about how much pleasure Hannibal could give him made his own cock ache between his thighs.

Hannibal fondled Will’s hair, his accented voice deep and alluring. “On your hands and knees please.”

Always a gentleman. Even when he was about to fuck him.

Will smiled and obeyed happily. Clothes rustled and fell to the ground. Hannibal nudged Will’s thighs wide apart and settled behind Will, stroking Will’s back as if soothing a scared horse. He pressed his searing lips on Will’s tailbone and kissed up along Will’s spine to his ear.

Will’s breath hitched. Hannibal’s torso covered his back with the thick cock resting on his clef. He moaned and pushed back. Hannibal only leaned back. The strong hands danced on Will’s stomach and slithered to Will’s back, like a beast’s claws looking for the most succulent part of him. They stopped on his rear and spread his cheeks apart.

Will’s hole fluttered against the strain. Hannibal’s breath brushed against it.

“Beautiful, Will.”

Will blushed deeply, realizing his posture had exposed him completely to his lover and made him look shamelessly eager to be fucked.

He struggled. A hot and damp tongue ran over his hole, sending him into moaning and shuddering.

“Han, Hannibal…” 

Hannibal hummed and wrapped his lips around Will’s balls, sucking on them as if wanting to eat them raw.

Will tried hard to breathe, but Hannibal licked him from his perineum to his hole and drew circles over his rim with the tip of his tongue. His arms buckled and dropped him onto his elbows.

Hannibal placed a wet kiss on Will’s hole and licked him again, gently coaxing him to relax and open then breaching him. 

He gasped in surprise. “What, what are you—”

Hannibal dragged out and trusted into him again. 

Will panted in disbelief. He had never expected Hannibal could fuck him with his tongue. He moaned and grabbed at the sheets, his cock throbbing painfully. He wanted more. It was not enough to fill him. 

“I...I need you, Hannibal…”

Hannibal released him with a pop. His hole clenched in emptiness. The saliva drying on his rim made him itch.

He wriggled at the discomfort. Hannibal soothed him by rubbing his hole in small circles.

“Get the lube for me, beloved,” Hannibal said.

Will hoisted himself up and got the lube from the drawer. Hannibal rested a hand on his shoulder blade. He positioned himself back onto his elbows obediently, earning him soft kisses on his lower back.

“You did well tonight, my little mongoose.” Hannibal smiled against his spine. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Hannibal grabbed his cheek and ground against his clef, rubbing his aching hole tantalizingly.

He shivered and bucked back. “Reward me then. Fuck me.”

The deep, animalistic growl from Hannibal’s chest nearly startled him.

Hannibal gripped his hips. “As you wish, beloved.”

Will moaned as Hannibal slapped his hole with his thick cock. The bulbous head breached him without warning. He clenched reflexively. Hannibal massaged his hole and he slowed down his breath. His body forgot to fight and relaxed gradually, opening up for Hannibal to slide in further.

Pleasure overwhelmed him, making him forget the discomfort within seconds. He moaned, sucking at the shaft till the whole cock was buried inside him.

Hannibal bent over to shower Will’s neck in soft kisses and began moving. The delicious drag made Will’s limbs lose all strength. Hannibal thrust in hard and pressed Will’s forehead onto the bed. 

Will trembled helplessly. Hannibal tightened the grip on Will’s waist to speed up, his nails sinking into Will’s skin as if they wanted to rip him into shreds.

The rough movement rocked Will back and forth. He grabbed the bed sheets weakly. “Yes, ah, yes...harder, Hannibal…”

Hannibal snarled and plunged in faster and harder. The cock ground mercilessly at Will’s prostate, milking him in every thrust.

Will soon clawed the bed blindly, his toes curled and his hole clenched hard. Another deep thrust force him to come with a cry.

Hannibal crushed him to the mattress and bit his shoulder, fucking him even harder to make him spill every drop. He whined, legs shaking hard as his cock spurted out all of his cum. Hannibal jerked and came inside him.

They collapsed onto the bed and lay on their sides. Hannibal held Will tight while kissing Will’s scuff. Will smiled at the clingy act and clung to Hannibal’s arms. 

After a few more breaths Hannibal pulled out carefully. His cum spilled out from Will’s sore hole.

Will wiggled and turned around. Hannibal looked at him with half-lidded eyes, breathing through his parted lips.

Will cupped Hannibal’s cheek and gave him a kiss, giggling. “That was wild.”

Hannibal swallowed. “Did I hurt you?”

Will shook his head. “That was a compliment.” He grinned. “Just curious about what made a gentleman like you turn feral tonight.”

“Perhaps I am not the man you think I am.” Hannibal stroked Will’s hair and nuzzled on the crook of Will’s neck. “Perhaps I am being gentle because I am afraid I might scare you with my true self.”

Will ruffled Hannibal’s hair. “That is a gentle act.”

Hannibal looked up and caressed Will’s cheek. “There are many things I want to tell you.”

“I am not a fragile teacup.”

“You are not.” Hannibal smiled. “You are my precious mongoose. You are strong, but you are still gaining your strength. You can only face the cobra when you are ready.”

  
A viscous, boiling liquid surrounded him like a tight cocoon. He struggled, turning and twisting, eventually tearing off the walls of his prison and clawing his way out of it. 

He emerged from the sea of blood and quickly dragged himself to the sand, panting and coughing.

The full moon hang above him. The blood on his pale skin looked dark in the dim light.

He stood with his wobbly legs. 

The stag watched him near the treeline. With a soft puff, it trotted across the beach and stopped before him.

A strong urge to kneel and reach out was blooming in Will’s heart, but he resisted it.

He looked into the god’s eyes. His reflection stared back at him, crowned with dark antlers.  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

  
  
The hall was saturated with the scents of godkins. 

Will tucked his shirt collar which wrapped around his neck tightly, the tailored and yet unfit suit pricking his skin.

Hannibal covered Will’s hand when the opera began and he had never left Will alone. His emotions resonating with the notes swept through Will’s skin and infused Will’s heart. Will did not understand one single line of the play, but was also touched by it. He was quite surprised that Hannibal would have such a strong resonance to the music, in contradiction to his usual calm and stoic demeanour.

Smiling inwardly, Will glanced at Hannibal and studied his expression. Hannibal usually could catch him staring and would beam and give him a kiss, though the music had captured the doctor’s full attention. He looked at the stage without blinking, squeezing Will’s hand when the tension soared higher and higher and reached the end.

The soprano bowed. Hannibal quickly raised to applaud and Will followed suit.

“It was not something as catastrophic as you had imagined, wasn’t it?” Hannibal teased Will when they left the hall and entered the lobby, resting a hand on Will’s back, not too high or too low to be perceived as an overly friendly or vulgar act.

Will made an annoyed face. “It was bearable.”

Hannibal hummed and helped Will take a glass of champagne. 

“Would you indulge me again?” Hannibal asked. The golden lights and his charming smile made him looked irresistibly attractive.

It was cheating to lure him with that handsome face.

Will pursed his lips. “Might be.”

Hannibal looked as smug as a peacock.

Will lowered his head and sipped the alcohol. He looked up when someone called Hannibal’s name.

It was an elegant woman in a crimson dress. A human. Hannibal called her Mrs. Komeda.

Her interest was on Will though. Raising her chin like a swan, she asked in delight, “Oh, my, who is this beauty here?”

“This is Will Graham, my partner,” Hannibal purred above Will’s ear. “Will, this is Mrs Komeda, an old friend of mine.” He turned his face slightly at the woman, eyes locked with Will’s. “Will is a psychic. Touches from someone he does not know well could be overwhelming to him. I hope you would not feel offended as he could not offer a handshake.”

She gave a genuine smile at Will. “I wouldn’t if you showed me the trick to catch this unattainable man’s heart,” she drawled. “Let me tell you, Will, I have never seen him smitten like this.”

Will smiled, relaxed. “I can’t say for sure. He said he’d fallen for me at the first sight. I suspect it was only blandishments.”

“I would only tell you the truth.” Hannibal pecked Will’s cheek, making Will hide behind the glass.

“I was about to chide you for not holding dinner parties anymore, Hannibal,” Mrs. Komeda said. “But now I see the reason why. You are forgiven.”

Hannibal returned a smile. “I will hold them again. Once inspiration strikes. I cannot force a feast. A feast must present itself.”

“Couldn’t Will give you the inspiration?”

Hannibal looked at Will deeply. “He inspires my hunger.” He chuckled. “Every time I look at him, I face the temptation to make him a beautiful dish.”

Will huffed. “I’d be glad if you’d make me some fries and cheeseburgers.”

Hannibal tilted his head, likely not knowing if Will was too naive to understand the pun.

Will grinned.

Two men sneaked into Will’s peripheral sight, one of them emitting a pure musk. Will edged closer to Hannibal habitually. The stinging in his skin aggravated.

“Hi! Nice to see you.” The sweaty human greeted Hannibal in excitement.

Hannibal wrinkled his nose. “Hello.”

Will blinked. Oh, the cosmos. What a groundbreaking discover. There was something in this world which had the ability to disgust the good doctor just like that.

He hid a smirk, regarding the sweaty man closely. A patient. A clingy and annoying one. Must have been rejected by many shrinks. Hannibal was too considerate to dump him away within a second.

“And, er, this is my friend, Tobias.” The sweaty man gestured at the half-blood behind him. 

The godkin looked grim, looming. Cold, citrus-like scent drifted out from his limbs.

Will watched the godkin with the corner of his eye, half-using Hannibal as his shield. He almost did not notice the sweaty man had reached out a hand at him, though he ignored it nonetheless.

The man dared not to protest childishly in front of Hannibal, but he flushed in a bad temper. “You must also be a patient of Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal stared and his gaze returned to Will in a second, softened. “Will is my partner.”

“Boyfriend.” Will clung to Hannibal’s arm in case the man could not get it.

Hannibal smiled and nuzzled his nose against Will’s curls. “I would prefer ‘lover.’”

“Or ‘beau.’”

“Or ‘husband-to-be.’”

“You haven’t proposed to me yet.” Will shoved Hannibal’s chest.

“Dr. Lecter, you, you’ve never mentioned you have a lover?” The sweaty man tried hard to pull back Hannibal’s attention. Poor creature. Wanted to hug the fire so desperately.

“I must remind you that I am your psychiatrist, not your friend,” Hannibal said firmly. “We should leave our conversation to next week. Will and I are about to leave now.”

Will grinned wide as Hannibal pushed him with a hand on his back and hastened them to leave. 

“Can’t wait to be alone with me?” Will asked.

Hannibal gave a heavy sigh once they stepped out of the opera house.

“You should transfer him to a shrink that you don’t like,” Will said.

Hannibal lift his chin. “I am trying to find most suitable candidate.”

Will laughed and squeezed the back of his neck. His erected hair slowly lay back in the flesh air. 

“There’s something wrong with the half-blood,” he murmured. “I sensed fear and death on him.”

“Frankly said he owns a string shop,” Hannibal said, sliding his hand to Will’s waist and bringing him closer. “Perhaps he makes his own gut strings.”

Will hummed. “I don’t sense any traces on you even when you handle animal meat everyday.”

Hannibal responded him with a strange smile, “I only hire ethical butchers.”

  
A sudden buzz startled them out of their peaceful slumber. Will groaned and turned to the other side, pulling the duvet over his head and curling up into a ball. His head spun in the sudden movement. His sore eyelids determined to stay shut.

The noise shook violently.

Hannibal shifted beside him with a sigh but instead of making it stop, he shoved Will’s shoulder lightly. “Will.” 

Will growled and battered Hannibal’s hand. 

Hannibal avoided it, turning to ruffle his hair. “It is Jack.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“It might be an urgent case. He will keep calling until you pick it up.”

“Turn my phone off.”

“You are awake now. Answer it and don’t let us suffer.” Hannibal lured him with a soft kiss on his nape.

Will turned around, snarling, keeping his eyes shut. Hannibal had turned on the lamp on the nightstand. The blazing light pierced his eyelids and burnt his retinas.

Hannibal pressed the cold screen onto his ear shell.

“Where’re you, Will?” Jack asked before he could say hello. “I’m at your house and I only see your dogs.”

What the cosmos why wouldn’t they bite Jack and tear him to pieces?

“This my privacy, Jack. Have you considered I might be sharing my bed with a naked man?”

“...We have a case. The body was mutilated and displayed. Might be the Ripper.”

Will kneaded his frown and took the phone with his hand, turning his back at the light. “You can’t arrest a god. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“We are not sure if he is a god,” Jack said. “Go there and tell me if it is a god.”

Jack gave him the address and he threw his phone onto the mattress, grinding his teeth. Why wouldn’t serial killers dump their garbage at daytime? They weren’t bloodsuckers that would be burnt to ash by the sun.

Hannibal patted his hair. “A god?”

Will sighed and finally pried open his eyes. “He thinks it’s the Ripper… Sorry for waking you.”

“It is alright.” Hannibal kissed him. “I hope it is a Royal so you can return to me soon.”

Will laughed in incredulity. “I hope so.”

  
Drying blood and shed flesh led Will across the suite to the cold bathroom. A dead human lay in the bathtub. His abdominal wound dressed in suture threads was torn, wipe open like a broken zipper. A large, untreated gash spread under his chest, stretched wide but with no hot-red malice. 

Will tilted his head, though nothing changed in a different angle. He sighed and peeled off his glove.

Blade sliced his skin and an enormous limb slithered into his chest like a python, cracking his ribs from the inside.

He stumbled backwards quickly, fighting against the dire urge to claw open his stomach.

The limb wrapped around his heart and squeezed it in a steady rhyme, trying to revive his dead organ.

He gasped. The ghostly touch flayed off from him. He opened the door quickly. Clean air rushed in and drove the pure magic away, offering him a small comfort.

“What did you see?” Jack stormed into the room.

“A half-blood. He tried to save this man.” Will put on his glove. He paced, breathing fast. “It’s not the Ripper.”

“It is the Ripper,” Brian said at the doorway, waving at the corpse as if Will was blind to it. “There are 22 signature components all attributable to the same killer.”

“22 _possible_ signature components,” Will said.

“It is the Ripper.”

There was no point arguing about it. Will closed the door at Brian’s face. He fished out the aspirin bottle and swallowed two pills dry. It felt like they were stuck in his throat.

Jack stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Why are you sure?”

Will scoffed. “The Ripper once put his victim on an altar of a church, opened his abdomen, kept him alive and awake, and bloated his digestive track up with Milk just because he was curious of what would happen. And this ‘killer’...” He curled his lip. “...sedated the victim to free him from pain and tried to save him when his heart stopped. This is just someone trying to make an extra buck on a back-alley surgery and it went bad.”

Jack exhaled, bitter in disappointment. 

“The Ripper wants to stir you up. The more you struggle, the more amused he is,” Will said. “Even if he is not a god, he is definitely related to a god. Don’t try to catch him. You’re not a mindless moth.”

Jack glowered at the corpse. “How do you see the Ripper, Will?”

Will settled his eyes on the blood in the bathtub, looking into the darkness beneath. “He is a monster living under mortal's skin. He looks normal, and nobody can tell what he is.”

  
The land was still barren, covered by the cloudy sky and pale snow. Even if there were tiny tufts of grass brave enough to burst out from the soil, the wind and frost would soon throttle them. Will stepped on their corpses with no remorse.

A dog had discovered something in the snow and trotted back to him in excitement. The poor thing hang and swung in the dog’s maw and got bumped in front of Will’s shoes. Will crouched to inspect it in the dimness of the dusk.

It looked like a ragged doll. The head and a limb were gone. Will recognized it was a squirrel based on the short fur and large tail.

He dug a shallow hole to bury it. 

His dogs whined at him with a confused and begging look.

He shook his head. “It is rotten. Not good to eat it.”

He hoped one day someone would say this regarding his corpse.

When Will followed the faint light in his porch and returned to his house, Hannibal had arrived and got out of the Bentley. The bulged bag in his arm attracted the whole pack except Winston to him. He took off his leather gloves and patted him dutifully.

Will crossed his arms at the sausage Hannibal pulled out. “If any of them get obese one day, you are to blame.”

Hannibal smiled at Will, keeping his hand on Max’s neck. “I also brought some sausage for you.”

Will quirked a brow. “Real sausage or the euphemistic one?”

Hannibal paused and a smile tugged up his lips. “Which one do you prefer?”

Will shooed the dogs away from his lover. “You guess.”

Hannibal caged him in a tight hug. “I don’t want to sound over-confident.”

Will snorted. “You already are.”

They wiped the dogs’ paws clean before letting them back into the house. Will wanted to help with the dinner but he nodded off in the couch. 

Dinner tonight was calf’s liver with bacon and onions.

Will smiled at the delicious flavour.

Hannibal returned the expression. He lowered his eyelids and wet his lips with the wine. “How is the case? The Ripper has struck again?”

“It’s not the same guy.” Will then told Hannibal what he had seen and sensed there. 

“They both take valuable organ,” Hannibal said, slicing the liver.

Quite funny that they were discussing human organs when eating an offal dish. 

Will hummed, taking a mouthful of meat. “Valuable to cults?”

Hannibal nodded, amused. “Jack Crawford is looking for a serial killer he can’t seem to catch. It’s a brilliant diversion.”

“Maybe it is this killer’s agenda, but I don’t think it is the Ripper’s.” Will stroked the stem of his glass half-heartedly. “He is not religious. He likes mocking gods, or, he likes playing god and mocking the concept of ‘god.’ He disdains the arrogance of those who pray to the gods out of their own interest instead of genuine respect.” 

“Then what drives the Ripper to take the organs away?”

“He simply thinks they don’t deserve them.” Will lapped the sauce on his lips, which curved up as he caught Hannibal’s longing gaze.

“Perhaps the Ripper is giving the organs to someone worthy.”

Will laughed. “He’s a benevolent serial killer?” 

“Gods could be benevolent, why couldn’t a serial killer be?”  
  
Will shrugged, taking another bite. “I’ll keep it in mind if another body drops.”

  
A man sat in the back seat of the bus. Bisected by his waist, his lower body sat on one side of the aisle and the upper body on the other side, connected only by his gut.

Will shifted his gaze away from the photo to the autopsy table. The man lay there like a broken gingerbread man forgotten on a kitchen counter. 

“Not only did the Ripper take his kidneys, he took his heart,” Brian said at the other side of the corpse, “which he wanted to do in the hotel but was interrupted before he could.”

Will shook his head. “The Ripper wasn’t in the hotel. Someone else was.”

“You still think he was ripping that heart out to save a life?”

“Yes.”

“How about this body?” Beverly gestured at the corpse. “The Ripper painted this picture, for sure. In big, broad strokes.”

Jack crossed his arms. “Do you sense a god?”

Will torn off his glove. The magic was pure but weak. He shouldn’t, but he felt disappointed. “A half-blood.”

Jack nodded, looking pleased.

It was useless trying to change the self-destructive tendency in anyone. 

Will turned his face away. “Could both victims’ organs have been harvested for transplant?”

“The blood vessels important for easy reconnects were removed in both of them,” Brian said.

“And other Ripper’s victims?”

“Some are inconclusive because of the degree of mutilation, but yeah, that’s the way of the Ripper rips.”

The Ripper was extremely sadistic. He did not care about the others’ lives. Would he really “donate” his trophies after he spent so much effort to acquire them? Was it merely a trick disguising himself as the Organ Harvester, or was it that the Organ Harvester had abandoned his morality for wealth and started killing like the Ripper?

  
More bodies had dropped.

Heart, kidneys, livers, spleens, lungs, and even intestines had been missing, yet the killer, or the killers, had left much more behind. It was bad to take all the organs away if you intended to let your victims live, but all there were murders. It was a waste of a lot of useful organs.

Will would lick his dish and silverware clean when he was a child. One of the most memorable things of his childhood was his empty stomach and plates. He hated wasting anything.

“How many killers?” Jack asked, not seeming keen to hear Will’s answer.

“Two,” Will said.

“And you’re confident one of them is the Chesapeake Ripper?”

Will glanced at all the corpses. “At least one of them.”

  
“ _Coratella con carciofi_. Purple artichokes served with spring lamb's liver, lungs and heart.” Hannibal pried open the lid of the tupperware, the smell of skewered meat filled Will’s tiny office instantly.

“It smells great.”

“And it tastes great.” Hannibal smiled, glancing at the crime scene photos all over the desk. “I hope the case did not make you lose your appetite.”

“Oh, I can eat anything.” Will picked up a skewer and stuffed his mouth full with the meat. The rich sauce and juices exploded in his mouth as he chewed contently. 

“That is the greatest compliment to a chef.” Hannibal kissed the corner of Will’s smile. He looked at the photos as Will took another skewer. “All these happened within a few days? Are the Organ Harvester and the Ripper hunting together?”

Will shook his head. “It feels like the Ripper is playing us again, pretending to be another killer.”

“A killer who has the same agenda,” Hannibal said. “Would it be possible that they are serving the same god?”

The Horned One? The God of Winter and Famine. The god who could induce extreme hunger.

Will stopped chewing and swallowed hard.

“Will.”

He whirled around. Jack and Beverly marched into the room with excitement.

“Dr. Lecter. What a nice surprise.” Jack nodded at Hannibal, unable to suppress his glee. “We have a lead on the Ripper. Care to help us catch him?”

Will looked at Hannibal, who mirrored his confusion and curiosity.

  
They hurried to the ambulance garage only to find an empty bay.

“Is there a GPS on that ambulance?” Beverly asked.

The garage manager shook his head.

“Encrypted messaging or remote tracking?”

“We can’t afford that kind of hardware.”

Will said to Jack quietly, “He is likely to have another victim now. It might be too late to check all of the cameras.”

Jack sighed. “This is the last resort.”

Hannibal stepped closer to them. “I might know a method to track him.”

Jack raised his brows. “Do tell, Doctor.”

Hannibal looked at Will behind his fallen strands of hair, his lips carrying an enigmatic smile. “That would require Will’s psychic powers.”

  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster sex and tentacles in this chapter!

  
  
Hot water filled the glass teapot. Dried flowers, herbs, and mushroom slices floated in circles in the water, staining it with a tint of honey colour. Sweet musk diffused into the whole kitchen.

“I don’t think it is a good idea.” Will shifted his weight between his feet.

Jack and Beverly had went to check the security footage, and Hannibal was ridiculously preparing a hallucinogenic tea for him.

Hannibal smiled behind the veil of steam like a fake psychic trying to tell his fortune with a magic 8 ball. “Don’t you want to catch the killer before he could destroy more lives?”

Will rubbed his face, smearing the sweat on his palms over his face. “You can drink it. Why must it be me?”

“You are a psychic, Will,” Hannibal said, sprinkling some white powder into the water. Will doubled it was sugar. “What makes you special is that you have less curtains in your mind blocking out the reality.”

“And this would help me spread open those curtains?” One drop of tea to unlock the true sight of the cosmos?

“Only a little pinhole for you to peak.” Hannibal smiled at the whirl of water. “You are completely safe in the deepest part of the dark cave. No beasts would come in. No need to worry.”

Will gave a dry laugh. “I can sympathize with those stubborn cavemen now.”

Hannibal covered the teapot with its silver lid to trap the leaking magic. “I would stay with you. You would not be alone.”

“Walk me through this wonderful spiritual journey?” Will scoffed, staring at the tea while hoping a random black hole would appear and devour all of it. “I don’t think it would do anything except bringing me terrible hallucinations.”

Hannibal smiled and placed the teapot and a teacup on a tray. “It is an old recipe from Europe. Tested many times. It could help you to open your inner eyes. Some might say they saw hallucinations only because their minds could not comprehend what they were experiencing.”

But he was smart enough to understand it?

“Are there any side effects?” Will asked.

“You might feel light-headed and nauseous, but nothing harmful.”

Will chewed his lips. “How long would it last?”

“Around two hours. Sometimes might be slightly longer, but no longer than four hours.”

“And I really won’t lose my mind after that?”

“It would not make you spoon out your eyes, Will. You would be unscathed, body and mind.”

It still did not sound reassuring.

Hannibal lift up the tray.

“Where are you going?” Will asked.

“To the bedroom. You might want to lie down after consuming it.” Hannibal paused. “If you want to drink it.”

Will swallowed dryly and followed Hannibal upstairs. 

Hannibal placed the tray on the nightstand and told Will to take off his shoes and socks and wait on the bed. Will would be glad to do so usually. He sighed, sweating, and decided to take off his jacket as well.

Hannibal returned to him after a brief moment and placed a long strip of cloth next to the teapot. Will stared at the dark fabric, somehow knowing what that was for.

“Have you, have you tried this before?” His gaze followed Hannibal who moved an armchair to his bed.

“It only works on a small fraction of people.” Hannibal sat across from Will, their knees brushing each other. “We would begin with half of a cup to see if it works on you and if you have any negative responses.”

“Do I have to drink the whole pot of it if it works?”

Hannibal smiled as if Will had said he wanted to eat a whole cake. “I think three cups would suffice.”

Hannibal opened the lid of the teapot. A stronger level of magic spilled out, fueling Will’s anxiety. Hannibal poured out the tea till the cup was half-full.

Will blinked as the doctor handed him the cup directly. “No spells or rituals?”

Hannibal shook his head and gave Will a smile. “Drink it when you are ready.”

The porcelain heated Will’s fingers. He blew at the tea, watching the ripples he created. 

It could be the fastest way to find the killer. And he could not say that he had not a slight interest in what he might see when he had his inner eyes open.

Will pursed his lips on the rim and breathed in the sweet mist. “Let’s blow my mind then.”

He slowly sipped the hot liquid and craned his neck for the last drop to fall into his throat. The tea radiated a comfortable heat in his stomach.

He placed down the cup. The room suddenly looked brighter, forcing him to squint. Fumes with a faint green colour enshrouded the teapot and the cup.

Will rubbed his eyes and turned back to Hannibal whose irises now sparkled like rubies.

He told Hannibal what he saw. “It takes effect that soon?”

Hannibal looked at him like studying an interesting specimen. “Do you feel any discomfort?”

“I feel warm. Nothing bad.”

“Good. We should take some tests then.” Hannibal stood and picked up the strip of cloth.

“What’s that for?” Will asked the obvious.

“I have to blindfold you,” Hannibal purred, and he smirked at Will’s blush. “For not letting your mortal eyes mislead you, of course. Traditionally, you need to have your eyes removed, but neither of us want it happen, isn’t it?”

Will nodded. He closed his eyes. Hannibal wrapped the cloth around him and tied a knot at the back of his head, stroking his hair before drawing away.

Will tensed and reached out. Hannibal caught his hand quickly.

“I will not leave you, Will.” Hannibal kissed him. “Can we continue?”

Will relaxed his shoulders and arms. “Yes.”

“Imagine yourself opening your eyes slowly. With each breath you take your eyelids lift higher and higher. You see light spilling into your mind. It gets brighter and eventually illuminates every corner in your mind.”

Will held his breath as the first beam pierced his eyelids. Was, was it just his brain? Just the power of suggestion?

Needles of light drilled more and more holes, painting his sight with a blinding paleness. He shut his eyes tight reflexively, but it was nothing physical. 

The light dimmed, or he adjusted to it. Vague shadows emerged in his sight. They were sharpened slowly, pale colour saturating to vibrant shades. He saw Hannibal’s face, the nightstand beside him, the samurai armor at the doorway, and everything, sharp and clear.

“I see you. It’s like I’ve opened my eyes.”

“You have opened your inner eyes.” Hannibal smiled and raised his free hand. “Tell me, Will, how many fingers am I raising now?”

“One.”

“And now?”

“Four... Two... Five.”

“Excellent.” Hannibal put his hand at his back. “How about now?”

Will frowned. “How can I see it when you’re hiding your hand behind your back?”

Hannibal chuckled, placing his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Stand up and come closer.”

Will wanted to protest that how he could stand up when Hannibal was pressing him down firmly, but he stood in an unprecedented ease as if a lifelong burden had been left away from his shoulders. He stepped aside from the bed and turned around, not only seeing Hannibal’s back but also _himself_ sitting on the bed without moving an inch.

“Han, Hannibal.” He called and he saw himself parting his mouth, reaching at Hannibal in panic.

Hannibal held his hand. He could feel the warmth and the touch, but he was not there, like his eyes had moved out form his skull and turned around, looking back at his body.

“What happened, Will?”

“I, I’m standing at your back, but I...my, my body is still there.”

“Don’t worry.” Hannibal patted the back of Will’s hand. “It is similar to remote viewing, a type of clairvoyance which allows you to see beyond the normal range a human eye could see.”

Will had heard of the term when he had taken the psychic ability test. “So the tea just gave me a new power?”

“Not exactly the same. It helps your consciousness leave the physical realm. In another word, you can project your mind outside your body. You can come back anytime you want.”

Will tried to touch his body but ended up having his hands grabbing Hannibal’s lapel. “How?”

“Breathe and relax.” Hannibal squeezed his hand. “Come closer to your body. Concentrate on your physical feelings. Untie the curtains in your mind and let them fall to obscure your sight. Imagine yourself wading into the cold darkness. When you open your eyes again, you will be back inside your body.”

Will let the light in again. He was back in front of Hannibal. He reached out to touch Hannibal’s face, then retreated and flexed his hands before his blindfolded eyes.

“Can we continue?” Hannibal stroked his cheek.

“I...I can try again.”

Even though having such experience, it was still disturbing to see his body separated from his mind. How could one’s consciousness left their own body? Was his brain still firing electricity and supporting his consciousness? What if his body died when his mind was outside his body? Would he died as well?

“Will? Is it alright?”

“Yes. Just thinking.” Will laughed. “I am looking at your back, and, yeah, my body, watching myself talking. A bit like the Avatar movie controlling an artificial body except that is my real body… Have you watched the movie?”

“I have. The scene when the Goddess of Pandora woke from her slumber was impressive.”

Will could hear Hannibal smiling.

“Our mind is trapped in our physical bodies,” Hannibal said. “What we see and what we hear are filtered by our flesh and bones. We could only perceive the reality when we truly leave our bodies behind. Transcendence. What the Great Old Ones have archived.” He put his hand on his back again. “Let’s see if you can do so.”

Will hummed. “You are clenching your fist.”

“Yes. Now, please go outside the room. I have left something in the corridor. Tell me what it is.”

Will walked to the bedroom door. He felt he was walking, but he also felt he was sitting on the mattress with his hands being held safely in Hannibal’s palms. What was connecting his mind and his body? Were souls real? Could other animals do this?

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to keep talking to me so I know you are not lost.”

It seemed “losing one’s mind” was not a figurative phrase now.

“Ok. I’m outside the room. You, you placed a fork on the floor.”

“I did.” Hannibal chuckled. “Could you go to the stairs?”

Will took a few steps and started losing focus. The stairs blurred into patches of colour. He stopped, looking around. There was nothing pulling him back, but his intuition told him it was a bad idea to walk farther.

“I can’t see well. Should I go back?”

“Yes. I only wanted to test how far you can see right now.”

Will returned and Hannibal filled the teacup half-full again. The steam now was glowing in lime green, looking extremely toxic.

Will drained the cup, exhaling out a green breath like a dragon.

The world became much sharper. The lingering scent of the tea Hannibal had left in the hall hovered in mid air like a weak aurora. He followed it downstairs to the kitchen. Hannibal had placed a kitchen knife on the island counter. He looked at the shiny blade, not finding his reflection on it.

Hannibal asked him to go to the foyer where he found a sketchbook.

“You drew me a heart. A real heart.”

“I thought you would prefer an anatomically correct heart than the symbolic one.”

Will smiled at the stroke on his face.

Hannibal called him back to let him drink the second and the third cup.

“How far will I be able to see?” Will asked, sipping the bittersweet liquid. 

“It is enough for you to see the cosmos,” Hannibal said. Will could not tell if he was joking.

Will got warmer, hot even. He undid two buttons of his flannel shirt. The room begin to rock like a boat. Hannibal helped him to lie on the bed and held his hand tighter.

“Now imagine your mind as a gas balloon and being held by your hand. Slowly loosen your fingers one by one. The rope slide out from your palm;your mind is free, going heavenwards. Nothing could stop you. Not the ceiling, not the wind, not the gravity.”

Will was raised. He turned around like a sea otter and looked down at his body. The roof of the house blocked his sight. He floated higher. The buildings and the streets beneath him shrunk into small spots of light. He saw the whole city, the state, the continents hidden in the shadow while the other side of the world shined by the sunlight. 

Earth became a beach ball, a blue marble, a dim dot, and vanished in the darkness. The Sun, the source of all lives on Earth, was drowned in the dark as well. 

Stars, dwarf and giant stars, terrestrial and gaseous planets, asteroids and comets entered his sight from the corners of his eyes and faded in reddish shades. He passed though countless of dark, blue, magenta, and neon-green nebulae. 

Eventually the great galaxy presented itself to him, a silver hurricane of stardust, whose center glowing in orange shades while its arms bright and blue, where stars were forming and dying rapidly. 

The planet he called ‘home’ was merely an insignificant grain of sand in this galaxy, nothing in this infinite cosmos.

Will did not dare to breathe. 

Wintry silence buzzed in his ears.

He searched, but he had lost his way home.

“Hannibal, Hannibal?”

“I am right beside you, Will.”

The voice echoing in Will’s brain drew his gaze to his left. Hannibal was standing there, not in the blue shirt but in the dark suit with deep-red squares, Will’s favorite one.

Will gasped. “Did you drink the tea?”

“I didn’t.” Hannibal smiled. “Why would you ask that?”

“You, you are right here with me. I see you. Are you, are your voice even real?”

“What is the definition of ‘real’?” Hannibal sneered. “I am holding your hand at this moment and you can feel it. Am I not real? You are lying on your bed but your consciousness has reached beyond the galaxy and looking back at it. Is it not real?”

Will gazed at the swirl of stars. Even when he had left the Milky Way, he could still felt Hannibal’s hand on his, he could still felt the softness of mattress beneath his back. How many light years had he traveled? And how far could he go before he would lose his connection with his body? It should not be real. It was impossible.

“I, I can’t be here. Nothing could be faster than light, and now we just went outside of the galaxy?”

“Your consciousness is no longer bound in the physical world,” Hannibal said. “Consider you are observing a river from the shore. You would not be wet or deterred by the resistance of water when you look upstream.”

Will stared at the Milky Way, taking it in.

“We could go farther if you want. There are many beautiful galaxies out there.”

Will turned around. What standing beside him was not Hannibal anymore. It was the stag.

“Hannibal?” Will receded.

The stag stepped closer to him. “Yes, Will?”

“You, you’ve changed.”

“Have I?” Hannibal looked down at himself and walked around Will briskly, his feathers bouncing, lit by star light. “Perhaps it is what I truly look like.”

Will wanted to beg Hannibal stop joking, but his voice was stuck in his throat.

“Come with me, Will.” Hannibal took a few steps and turned his head back at Will.

Will followed him without a thought.

They ventured farther, meeting numerous galaxies, some were spiral like the Milky Way, some only had a flat disk, and some were in irregular shapes.

Will stopped as a deep noise pierced through his head.

A small lump of meat looking like a brain appeared far ahead of them.

Will leaned to Hannibal’s side.

The lump grew at an exponential rate and changed shape as it spun, enormous eyes and indescribable limbs emerging in its wrinkled skin and swimming to the center of it before sinking down. It expanded as large as a cargo boat then implored within a second, leaving only a fading noise.

“What, what was that?” Will asked quietly.

“It was only a creature from a higher dimension passing by,” Hannibal said. “Some entities like traveling between dimensions physically or mentally. It is the former one.”

Will glanced between Hannibal and the spot where the creature had been. “Is it a god?”

Hannibal trotted and stood before Will. His eyes were narrowed in amusement. “It depends on what you think gods are. A highly intelligent creature? Powerful enough to bend the reality? Having advanced technology? Or simply a creature from the cosmos?” His chuckle vibrated in Will’s ears. “Are humans gods in the eyes of the other outer space creatures?”

“It would be unimaginable disaster if something worshipped us,” Will said. “We are too arrogant already.”

Although the deer face of Hannibal revealed nothing, Will could tell he was sneering.

Will asked, “Is it where the Great Old Ones had been before they woke up?”

“We are still looking at the three-dimension world. They had transcended to a much higher dimension which you are not ready to see yet.” Hannibal turned back. “Perhaps we should go back now. There is still a serial killer waiting to be caught.”

They did not even move;the world accelerated to them. Galaxies swooped to them and left Will’s sight quickly like a heavy rain. The Milky Way loomed over them and they plunged into one of its arms.

Before Will could recognize Earth, they had already landed. They were back into the ambulance garage. Will looked at Hannibal who had changed back into a human being.

“How are we going to find him?” Will asked as they advanced to the empty bay.

“He is a godkin. You can trace his scent.”

Will glanced around. The musk from dozens of godkin had stained the air green. “There’s been too many people here. I can’t.”

Hannibal smiled. “Dogs could smell scents left hours ago. You are better than them. You have sensed his musk. Remember the smell and isolate it from the air.”

Will ruled out the impure scents from the kins, then the ones from the relatively weak and strong half-blood. The auroras dimmed in the air one by one. The last one glowed brightly. Will followed it out of the garage to the road, rushing pass the cars and street lamps at the speed of an eagle.

The musk shined brighter and ended behind an ambulance’s rear door. Will passed through the door. 

The tiny space was flooded with muddy mist. A veiled contour lurked at one side, looming over an unconscious man.

  
They get out of the car after Jack and the agents. Will stumbled. The effect of the tea was fading slowly. He had his blindfold on, but he was still dizzy with his mind wobbling inside his skull, wanting to be out to explore more. Hannibal grabbed his arms to help him keep his balance.

“Dr. Lecter!” Jack called.

Hannibal looked at Will. Will gave him a smile.

“I’m ok. Go.” He shove Hannibal’s arm.

Hannibal took a step and looked back at him to make sure he would not fall to the ground before hurrying to the ambulance. Will followed him a few steps behind.

Hannibal climbed inside the vehicle and looked into the deep cut on the victim’s back. “He was removing the kidney. Poorly. I can stop the bleeding.”

“Do it,” Jack said.

Hannibal took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, disinfected his arms, and put on a pair of surgical gloves swiftly. He stuffed his hand into the man in decisiveness, holding the dying life with ease. “I got it.”

Jack commanded the Organ Harvester to get out of the vehicle. 

Not interested in the layman, Will stayed to watch Hannibal tending the victim. For some reason, a bone-chilling voice faded in and resonated in the air.

Hannibal raised his gaze behind his fallen bangs. His blood-red eyes struck Will.

Will saw eyes, thousands of eyes, limbs, feathers, and a magnificent crown of antlers—an eldritch being swathed by emerald mist and infinite darkness, staying impossibly in the tiny space, having one of its giant limbs stirring the organs of a human being.

Will took off his blindfold, trembling. His mortal eyes filtered out the reality.

The suave man looked back at him.

His world tilted and spun.

He panted and crumbled the cloth in his sweating, trembling hand, trying to seek an anchor.

Hannibal left the ambulance to the paramedics, backlit by the red and blue light. Will shook uncontrollably.

“You look pale, Will.” Hannibal reached out.

Will flinched and his shaky legs made him trip. Hannibal caught him just merely in time. The man’s breath brushed his ear. The familiar warmth singed his skin. 

He must smell acidic right now, mouth-watering like a fresh citrus fruit.

He shoved Hannibal away. 

“I’m, I’m fine. Just tired,” he mumbled, his gaze desperately searching for a safe place to land, but nothing was safe on this man, nothing was supposed to be safe.

The collar pin he had given Hannibal in the Winter Solstice caught his eyes. A pair of beautiful antlers. He had harbored suspicion ages ago, even since the first time they had met, only that he kept denying the ugly truth.

“Let’s go back then. You should rest earlier tonight.” Hannibal smiled softly.

He should run or yell at Jack and ask for help, but that it was impossible to outrun Hannibal with his short and clumsy legs, and he would definitely get everyone killed and that was only the most merciful ending for them.

Hannibal was hiding in a delicately sewed suit. He was playing a game. He would be incensed if Will ruined it.

Will was brave, but he was not a fool.

He dragged his legs to the Bentley. Hannibal opened the door for him. Without a word, he dropped himself onto the seat. Hannibal got into the car and cut off the last way out.

Will breathed, only the scent residue from the half-blood and his fear inflated his lungs.

What was he expecting? He had not sensed anything on Hannibal even when they were...intimate. 

What was he to Hannibal? A toy? Was their relationship also a game?

The car engine started. A wave of dizziness pressed Will onto the back of the seat.

“You would feel better if you put the blindfold back on,” Hannibal said. “The feelings from your body and your mind are contradicting each other.”

The concern in Hannibal’s voice was undoubtedly sincere. Will refused the suggestion regardless. His hand fished out the aspirin bottle from his jacket pocket as his headache intensified.

“Can I take some pills when the tea is still in my system?” He asked without a thought and cursed himself in his heart.

Hannibal turned his head at Will slightly, taking a sniff. “It should be fine.”

And why should he trust him?

Will poured out two pills and swallowed them dry, not caring if Hannibal was telling the truth or not.

He kept breathing fast, which only worsened his persisting headache.

“Relax, Will,” Hannibal said when he stopped the car at a red light, placing a hand on Will’s knee. 

It reminded Will the day at B.S.H.C.I. when Hannibal comforted him as he was on the verge of a panic attack. He tried to forget it, to forget everything Hannibal had said and done for him, but he could not control his body loosening under the calming touch. He nearly whined when Hannibal withdrew his hand to hold back the car wheel.

He hid his chin and his mouth behind his scarf out of habit. Hannibal had knit it for him. No one would spend time to make something for a toy. Perhaps Hannibal treated him as a pet? A puppy?

They went back to Hannibal’s house. Will stumbled out of the car. It was his last chance to flee.

He remembered the night he had staggered across the dim corridor to his father’s ward. His heart rate turned from chaotic to calm as he got closer, knowing well what was waiting for him, knowing well that it was inevitable and irreversible. 

He stepped inside the cave of the beast. The front door clicked behind him. He wondered if those selected children and the boy in his class who had gotten the invitations to the amphitheaters would face their death in the same odd calmness.

He closed his eyes but his mind was still open. 

Hannibal’s hands reached to him, helping him take off his jacket. Of course he would pare a fruit before eating it.

“Do you want a glass of water?” Hannibal asked.

Why wouldn’t Hannibal kill him immediately? What was he waiting for? Was he waiting for his fear to recede so his meat would taste better?

Will looked up. His throat tensed, squeezing out his broken voice—“What are you?”

Hannibal cocked his head. “Will?”

“Stop, stop playing with me. You are not a human. I saw you. You, you didn't care about catching the killer. You gave me the tea because you wanted me to see you.”

Hannibal lowered his gaze. “It seems I have no reason to hide anymore.”

Intense darkness and musk flew out from Hannibal and flooded the foyer within a second, dousing all Will’s bravery.

Will froze by instinct. He turned around to run, but an enormous hand grabbed him like a bird, two claws resting on his shoulders and the rest holding his torso firmly as he flailed and struggled.

“Don’t be afraid.” Hannibal’s voice came from above.

Will could not tell how tall Hannibal was now. Both of his mortal and inner eyes could not see anything in the dark. 

Perhaps it would be better for him not seeing the horrifying, dementing truth, but the total darkness only spurred his fear. He panted in the thick scent of magic. His heart threatened to explode in his chest.

“Please...” 

“Have I done anything to lose your trust in me?” Hannibal asked with a sigh. “I have never hurt you, Will, and I never will.”

Will knew that. Hannibal could have killed him long ago if he wanted. Even in his true form, even when holding him tightly and could crush his ribs and slash his skin with those sharp claws, Hannibal had exhibited no malice, but Will could not control his instinctual fear. 

He trembled and squirmed until he used up all his strength like a stranded fish. The adrenaline coursing through his veins eventually subsided, leaving him exhausted and feeble. He could only twisted his fingers when Hannibal moved and shifted his enormous body, claws and hooves clicking on the floor. 

A wall of feathers softer than clouds engulfed him.

Will did not know if it was Hannibal’s neck or chest, or even the beast’s belly. His body succumbed and went slack in the warmth. Hannibal loosened the grip on him and let him lean closer, purring softly against him.

“You will learn that there is no need to be afraid of me,” Hannibal said. “And you do not need to be afraid of anything when I am here protecting you.”

Will sunk deeper into the smooth fur. It was like hugging a big and tamed animal. If a god could be tamed.

“You are the god who appeared in Garret Jacob Hobbs’ house and B.S.H.C.I.,” Will said. “You killed the girl to help me see the Shrike, and you pretended to be the Organ Harvester to test if I could tell you apart. You see people as pigs because you are really a top predator. You, you...feed them to me.”

A loud laugh vibrated against his chest like a thunder. “I merely feed you pork.”

Will let out a faint sound which resembled a sob. The offal was still in his stomach, mingling with the tea. Will thought he would throw up, but he did not feel any discomfort. 

Hannibal was a god. He killed people just like they killed other animals. And he...elevated them to art. He could even say he ‘blessed’ them.

He clung to Hannibal’s feathers. “What makes them pigs?” 

“Their rudeness,” Hannibal said.

Will had been rude the first time they had met. Was he being fortunate or unfortunate that he had not gotten himself eaten yet? 

“What...what do you want from me?”

Hannibal reached out another hand to stroke Will’s hair with one of his claws gently. “Don’t you understand, Will? I would not make gifts for anyone.” He poked at the scarf on Will’s neck. 

It was not only this. The girl in the field. The corpses he had recently displayed. Every dish he had made for Will.

Will’s lips trembled in disbelief. 

“You are courting me.” His head snapped up and his eyes widened. “You want me to be your consort.”

Hannibal lifted him up. The darkness faded to reveal a canopy of antlers and thousands of obsidian eyes. Will saw himself in Hannibal’s eyes;he saw Hannibal in the reflection of his own eyes;he saw thousands of worlds and thousands of universes. 

Will’s legs quivered, craving to kneel. 

It was not fear. 

It rose from the bottom of his heart like the urge to reach out every time he looked at the stars above.

Will raised his hand. Hannibal lowered his head. The soft fur rubbed against Will's palm. He smiled as Hannibal’s snout buried onto his belly, even though he knew well that Hannibal could simply parted his cavernous mouth and swallowed him easily without chewing him.

He hugged Hannibal, and his act scared him. 

“What have you done to me?” He whispered. “I want to worship you. I want to give everything to you, my life, my body, my soul. Am I, am I insane?”

“I feel the same urge for you. Mad by love, I would said.” Hannibal made an expression similar to a human smile, amused. “I have never had a consort. Never thought of having one. But I knew I must have you since the first time I saw you.”

“Because I could tell you are not a human?”

“You surprised me with your powers, but it is only one of the many things about you that attract me.”

Will clung to Hannibal’s claws over his chest which flooded with warmth. Hannibal was still the same man he loved no matter how he looked like.

“Should I…” He smiled. “Should I call you ‘your majesty’ from now on?”

“I see you as my equal,” Hannibal said firmly. “Be my consort, Will.”

Will swallowed. “I won’t build an altar for you. I won’t make sacrifices for you. I won’t mutate myself into a kin. ”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes, chuckling. “Is it what you think a consort is? A slavish worshipper? Let me rephrase it. I want to marry you, Will.”

Will felt dizzy. Something bounced in his chest and jumbled his mind. Madness, perhaps, a blissful one.

He reached out again to invite the god closer. He closed his eyes and kissed Hannibal’s snout reverently. “I’m yours.”

Hannibal purred and loosened his grip on Will, letting Will to lie on his palm. A large tongue stuck out form Hannibal’s maw and licked Will’s face.

“Take off your clothes for me, my love.”

Will did so without hesitation. Hannibal nuzzled against his stomach, growled and licked him from between his legs to his chest, leaving a searing wet trail on his body, tingling his sensitive skin. 

Will shivered. Hannibal’s tongue rubbed against his swelling cock. He pushed Hannibal’s snout away and struggled to hide away, abashed at his body’s quick reaction.

“Hannibal, wait…”

“Don’t worry. I will not eat you, Will.” Hannibal hummed. “At least not literally.”

Somethings stick and cold climbed onto Will’s torso like snakes. Tentacles. Of course Hannibal had tentacles.

The one coiling itself around Will’s chest reached his nipple and pinched it roughly. He squirmed under the tease, and the other tentacles grabbed his thighs and slithered towards his groin. His cock throbbed in anticipation. The tentacles brushed over his perineum and his balls, enfolding his shaft tightly, teasing his glans with its tip.

Will moaned and wiggled, bucking up his hips without a thought. More tendrils climbed up to his body and enfolded him tightly. Hannibal squeezed his cock in a slow rhythm while stroking his balls. He soon began leaking.

More and more limbs attacked him, one of which traveled along his spine and ventured into his butt crack. It ground against his entrance, making him tremble. Oh, gods, Hannibal wanted to fuck him with it.

Will groaned in anticipation, parting his legs wider at his lover. His hole quivered under the poking and opened up. Hannibal slid in. It felt like being fingered at first, but it was spilling out slick liquid, writhing against his walls and stretching him wider and wider, sliding in effortlessly. 

Hannibal found his prostate within seconds, squeezing out moans from his throat. It did not end there. The tentacle crawled in deeper, beyond anything normally could reach, and it went on and on as though it would never stop.

It was too much, too deep. 

Will whined. A part of him wanted to ask Hannibal to stop, but the intense fullness inside him felt so good it made him clench harder, wanting to take more in.

Hannibal withdraw slowly. The sweet drag made Will moaned, but the emptiness came after it tortured him without mercy. He squirmed and begged. Hannibal buried inside him again, rougher this time, which nearly made him come.

“Not yet, Will. I haven’t entered you yet.” Hannibal pulled out.

Will gave a weak noise between his shallow breaths. His mind and body were burning in desire, however his concern raised as he grasped back some sanity. “How, how can we have sex in this way?”

How large Hannibal was in his true form? He did not even dare to think about it.

Hannibal chuckled at him. “I admire your ambition, Will, but I believe it is impossible to do so.”

Hannibal moved—Will could not tell if he was walking, slithering, or flying, everything went blurred then he was placed carefully on Hannibal’s bed.

The god changed before him. The antlers sunk into Hannibal’s skull and the feathers melt in the light of the lamp.

Hannibal stood in his human form, naked, showing nothing reminding Will of the eldritch world.

Will left the bed and held Hannibal’s cheekbones with his hands. Somehow the familiar sight gave him a strange feeling. “It is an illusion? Or a vessel you’re hiding in?”

“This is one of my facets. Graphite and diamond are the same.” Hannibal smiled and kissed him. 

Will hummed, busy touching Hannibal’s body. He fondled the chest hair as Hannibal held him closer. Hannibal’s cock pressed against his. He took it into his hand curiously, grinding against it.

Hannibal pushed him back onto the bed with a growl. “Will, my love…”

Hannibal nipped at Will’s lips and settled between Will’s thighs. He rubbed his member against Will’s hole. 

Will groaned impatiently. “Get inside. Make me yours. Take me.”

Hannibal entered Will quickly. Will gasped and grabbed the bed sheets, moaning, but Hannibal held him still.

“Patience.”

Smiling, Hannibal bit his own finger. Bright, emerald blood oozed out out his wound. He smeared the ichor between Will’s brows and drew a straight line from Will’s collarbones to his navel.

Will watched it in confusion. Hannibal drew indecipherable symbols on Will’s chest and belly, mumbling something in an eldritch language. The last word finished as Hannibal smudged the blood over Will’s cock. Will wiggled. Hannibal captured his lips.

“You are mine, Will, forever.” 

Hannibal thrust into Will fast and deep. Will could feel claws on his waist grazing his skin and he could see antlers hovering over him. He called Hannibal’s name. Hannibal whispered his name back, deep and soul-reaching.

Will came shortly after. Hannibal followed him and bestowed soft kisses upon him.

They lay on their sides. The blood on Will’s forehead dripped down. He raised his hand but Hannibal grabbed his wrist. 

“Let it dry.” Hannibal kissed the back of his hand.

“What was that?” Will smiled.

“A ritual to bind us.” Hannibal pressed their forehead together, looking into Will’s soul. “Till the end of all universes.”


End file.
